Harry Potter and the Muggleborn Conspiracy
by Snoofleglax
Summary: An extremely late addition to the post-OotP fics. The Second War has begun, but Voldemort is quiet for now. Harry begins lessons from Dumbledore and from the new Defense professor, introducing him to a whole new level of magic.
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note: Dear Readers: You may well be wondering why I'm suddenly deciding to publish this now, nearly four years after Half-Blood Prince came out and and a year and a half since the saga ended with Deathly Hallows. The simple answer is because I feel like it. The more complicated answer is that the post-Order of the Phoenix fics were always my favorite and my introduction to the Harry Potter fanfiction community, where I've read some outstanding stories. I always wanted to write one of my own, and this has been kicking since the summer of 2006. Circumstance has repeatedly gotten in the way, but my completion of college and lack of gainful employment at the moment have given me an opportunity to continue this story. Uploaded are the chapters I've currently finished over the last nearly three years (not nearly as many as I would like) and I'm writing more as you read this. So please sit back, relax, and enjoy this trip down Memory Lane to the heady days of the post-OotP fics. And what author's note would be complete without a plea for reviews? All comments welcomed, especially constructive criticism. If I've screwed up the pre-HPB canon, please let me know and I'll see what I can do to fix it. Now, on with the show!_

_--Snoofleglax_

I.

An Abbreviated Purgatory

A crescent moon shone eerily down on the trim houses of Privet Drive and their beautifully manicured lawns, bathing everything in a pale, ghostly light. The streetlights threw a contrasting sickly orange hue over the sidewalks, creating more shadows than they banished. All was silent, save for the occasional bark of a dog or the faint roar of a distant car engine. In those trim houses, the perfectly normal people (and quite proud of it, thank you) that lived there were fast asleep, their slumber peaceful and uninterrupted. However, there was one _unusual_ inhabitant of the neighborhood, and his sleep was anything but.

The light from the moon came in through the front window of Number Four and dimly illuminated the pale, thin face of a black-haired teenage boy. He had grown quite a bit recently, and was even thinner than he usually was. He tossed and turned and muttered in his sleep, sweat dotting his forehead, on which, half-obscured by sweaty bangs, was a curiously-shaped scar. Even more curiously, the scar was burning a dull red. The boy rolled over and groaned some more, caught in the throes of a living nightmare.

_...A tall figure clad in flowing robes of black glided forward towards a cowering family..._

_...A father stood, trembling but defiant, ready to defend his loved ones against a threat of which he could not conceive..._

_...A pale, long, slender hand extended forward from the robe, grasping a intricately carved wooden rod..._

_...A pair of glowing red eyes flared malevolently..._

_...Two words, spoken gently, almost lovingly, followed by a blinding flash of green light..._

_...The father fell, eyes wide but unseeing, glazed over in death..._

_...Three more flashes of green and the remainder of the family joined the dead man on the ground..._

_...A screech of high-pitched laughter, cold as ice and tinged with madness..._

_...That same figure pointing his wand at the night sky and exclaiming, "_Morsmordre!_"_

Harry Potter flew upright in bed, the incantation still echoing in his mind, the green skull and snake still in his eyes. Muggles. Voldemort was targeting Muggles now. He rubbed his forehead in a vain attempt to soothe the pain which was shooting through his scar, and sighed. The nightmares were getting worse, and Harry strongly suspected that what he saw during the night was more along the lines of visions, caused by the mysterious connection between he and Voldemort.

This was turning out to be an absolute _hell _of a summer. The nightmares happened almost every night and were depriving him of sleep, and he couldn't block them out, since Snape had been such an awful Occlumency teacher. For the umpteenth time that summer, Harry tried one of the few things Snape had taught him. He tried pushing the leering, serpentine face of Voldemort out of his mind and clearing it. When that didn't work (predictably, Harry thought to himself), he tried to concentrate instead on positive things. Snape hadn't taught him that, but he found that he felt less gloomy and depressed if he focused on things he loved. Unfortunately, the first thing that replaced the Dark Lord's face was that of his recently killed godfather, Sirius Black, and Harry felt his stomach clench.

Sirius's death was still eating at him. Intellectually, he knew that it wasn't his fault that Sirius had died—Bellatrix Lestrange had cast the spell that had sent him behind the veil—but it was awfully hard to reconcile that with the fact that if Harry hadn't been thick enough to believe the illusion that Voldemort had sent to him, Sirius wouldn't have had to go to the Ministry of Magic to rescue him in the first place. Harry's stomach clenched again. It was still painful to think of him, but as the days went by, Harry had felt the pain diminish ever so slightly. The wound Sirius's death had left still stung terribly, but it was scabbing over a little. And the reason Voldemort had lured Harry to the Ministry's Department of Mysteries was a bigger weight on his shoulders than Sirius's death.

His stomach clenched again as he thought of the prophecy. He had to destroy the most powerful Dark Lord in history, and with the power of what? He still wasn't quite sure—the memory of his conversation with Dumbledore was rather hazy. Even if nothing else about that horrible fifteen minutes was clear, the content of the prophecy was perfectly replicated in his memory, and though he'd thought through it and analyzed the wording for more time than he really cared to admit, Harry still could not figure out for the life of him what power he could possibly have that Voldemort did not. He knew one thing, though. Voldemort had to be stopped somehow, at any cost. And to stop Voldemort, he needed help. A lot of it.

He shook his head. This was not helping. Brooding on death, both Sirius's and his own likely demise was not going to help him figure out a way to destroy Voldemort. Harry tried again to turn his mind to positive things, things that would calm him down. _Ron. Hermione. Hagrid. Quidditch. _ He repeated them in his mind, doing his best to picture their faces until he felt a bit he remembered the letters that Ron and Hermione had written to him. Pig, Ron's tiny Scops owl, (which Harry remembered, with an unpleasant jolt, had been from Sirius as a replacement for his pet rat-slash-Death Eater) had delivered the latest ones right before Harry had gone to bed, and he'd put off reading them until morning. Well, he thought, glancing at his cheap alarm clock, it was technically morning now, so he got out of bed and snatched the letters off his desk. The first was addressed in Ron's untidy hand.

_Harry—_

_Glad everything's going well with your aunt and uncle, mate. It must be a nice change not being locked in your room with bars on the window and your stuff under the stairs. _

_Mum says to tell you that you're invited to come stay at the Burrow, of course, and to let us know when you want to come. If you want to come right away, just tell me and I'll tell her. _

_Just a warning, though. People are going a bit mental here. Dad, Bill, and Charlie are coming and going all the time, Percy's still being the world's biggest git, there are more explosions in Fred and George's room every day, Ginny's going around in a fury because Dean was two-timing her, and Mum's going mad trying to deal with it all. _

_It's wicked not having any homework, isn't it? Course, we do have our OWLs on the way. I think Mum will be satisfied if I do better than Fred and George, and they didn't exactly set the bar high—they only got three each, remember? _

_I sent a letter to Hermione telling her that she's welcome to come, too, but she's in Italy and won't be back until August, so I don't know if or when she'll come. Anyway, I've got to go, since Mum is yelling at me and Ginny to de-gnome the garden again. _

—_Ron _

Harry smiled. Ron's letters were always good for cheering him up. And no matter how crazy the Burrow was, Harry couldn't wait to get there. He'd write Ron later, telling him that Harry wanted to get out of Privet Drive as fast as a Portkey could take him. With a bit of luck and good timing on Hedwig's part, he could be at the Burrow tonight. He put Ron's letter on his nightstand and picked up Hermione's.

_Dear Harry,_

_Rome is absolutely beautiful! It's such a wonderful city, and there's so much history! I've spent a lot of time in the library, and I've learned quite a bit about the Romans, especially ancient Roman wizards. I found out that wizards and witches were known to exist by the Muggle population, and, furthermore, were revered as oracles and heroes! There's so much more I want to find out; I can't believe I'm only going to be here for a couple more weeks._

_I expect that by the time you get this, you'll be with Ron at the Burrow. He invited me along, as well, and I'll be happy to join you two, but it won't be until August, since we won't be back until then. _

_How are you doing, Harry? I know this summer has to be hard for you, and I just want you to know that Ron and I are here for you if you ever need to talk about anything. Please, Harry, talk to us. It's not good to keep everything bottled up inside you. I know you hate it when I push, so I'll try not to, but please remember what I've said. Please._

_I'll see you at the Burrow._

_Love, _

_Hermione_

Harry tossed Hermione's letter on top of Ron's and sighed. She was right, as usual, and she was even going about it with more tact than normal, but how did he talk about this stuff? How was he supposed to tell his two best friends in the world that he was destined to kill or be killed, that his life or Voldemort's must end by the other's hand? He knew he had to tell them, and he knew that they would offer to help him, and that was what frightened him so much. Suppose Ron or Hermione, or worse, both of them, was killed by a Death Eater or Voldemort? Harry didn't think he could take that. As terrible a guilt as he felt for Sirius's death, at least Sirius had been a fully-qualified wizard, and had known the risks going in. Ron and Hermione were still students, and losing them—Harry didn't know if he would recover from such a blow. He did know he needed help, badly, and if he didn't have _someone's, _the Wizarding world was already lost.

Harry resolved to tell them when Hermione got to the Burrow. They needed to know, and they deserved to know after all the three of them had been through together. At least they would stick with him, if no one else would.

He yawned. Hearing from Ron and Hermione _had_ cheered him up, despite his dark thoughts on telling them the prophecy, and he felt a bit more relaxed. It really did feel good to know that, no matter what else happened, those two would stick with him, whether he wanted them to or not. With that pleasant thought, he laid back down, and closed his eyes.

***

Harry awoke a second time to a heavy banging on his door and a yell. "Potter! Get out of bed! You've got chores to do, and I'll not have you lying about all day like some useless lump! Your aunt has a list of what's to be done, and I want each thing finished by the time I get home!"

He rolled over and looked at the clock. It was eight-thirty, right on time for Uncle Vernon to leave for work and give Harry his daily to-do list. He groaned and put on his glasses and clothes, then trudged downstairs to face the day. At least he could tell Ron that he was ready to come, and hopefully be out by evening.

In the kitchen, Dudley was staring avidly at the television, his bulk taking up most of the space between the table and the back wall of the kitchen. Aunt Petunia, her face as sour as ever, was standing at the stove, putting the last of the bacon on a plate. She handed it to Harry, along with a scrap of paper.

"Do everything on the list by the time your uncle gets home tonight," she said, and without any further words, she turned off the stove and went over to the sink to clean the breakfast dishes, pointedly ignoring his presence. Harry sighed. He wasn't going to get any more communication than that. His aunt and uncle had taken Moody's warning at King's Cross seriously, and, though their behavior couldn't remotely be considered friendly, it was much less hostile than it used to be. They simply reverted to their old tactic of ignoring him completely, save when they had work for him to do. For his part, Harry thought it was quite an improvement, and he found that as long as he did what they asked, it wasn't as hard to live with them as it used to be. That was one bright spot in an otherwise uniformly dark summer.

The list was long, but not entirely unreasonable. They'd even given him twenty minutes to eat lunch. Without another word, he washed his plate and headed outside to begin his first task, which was to mow the lawn.

Harry dragged the mower out of the garage and started it. He was just about to start cutting the front lawn when a pile of trash cans across the street fell over for no readily apparent reason. This was followed by a muffled curse that was nevertheless audible from where he was standing, though there was no one in sight. He chuckled to himself. It had to be Tonks under an Invisibility Cloak or something. Only she had a penchant for such clumsiness. He waved in the direction of the trash cans, then began to mow the lawn.

He had just finished with the front lawn and was sitting down to rest for a moment on the freshly-cut grass, when Tonks's voice spoke softly in his ear.

"Harry, I have a message from Dumbledore. He says to be ready to go. He's coming to get you sometime in the next twenty-four hours. Sorry I can't give you anything else, he said that was the best time estimate he had. Oh, and he knows the Weasleys invited you, and he says not to worry, he'll take you there after you're done."

Done? Done with what? Harry turned to pose this question to Tonks, but as he did so, he heard the trash cans in the drive clatter as something bumped into them, and he realized that Tonks had started back to her post across the street.

He was now feeling a bit light-headed. Why was Dumbledore coming for Harry himself? Was something really bad about to happen? Did the Headmaster want to take him somewhere? Head spinning with questions, Harry got up off the ground and dragged the mower around to cut the back lawn.

The last time he'd spoken to the Headmaster, Harry remembered with a twinge of embarrassment, he'd wrecked his office. Rather thoroughly. He didn't remember exactly what he'd said and done in the haze of grief and rage, but he distinctly remembered throwing things. Small shiny things that had been smashed to bits. He dragged the mower around to the backyard and started it, feeling slightly ashamed of the outburst.

***

Time seemed to run agonizingly slow, starting from the moment that Tonks had told Harry Dumbledore was coming to get him. Even the twenty minutes for lunch seemed long, and the more often he glanced at a clock, the slower time seemed to move.

It was only half past three when Harry finished his final chore (trimming the rose bushes), and he rushed into the house to get cleaned up and pack his things. Aunt Petunia seemed astounded at the speed with which he'd done his work, and was eyeing him suspiciously, probably thinking he'd somehow performed magic. He avoided her glance as he walked on the paper she'd put down, then rushed up the stairs and into the bathroom, peeling off his sweaty clothes and tossing them on the floor.

After a quick shower, Harry pulled on some clean clothes and started tossing his things haphazardly into his open trunk. The accumulated litter of five years of school had gathered at the bottom and was making it hard to close, but after some creative rearranging and a casual treatment of his books that would have sent Madam Pince into a fit, he managed to force it shut. After closing it and making sure it was latched properly, he sat on his bed, now quite bored. Hedwig had come back some time during the day, and was asleep in her cage, head under her wing. Harry looked around for something to do, and his eyes fell on the letters from Ron and Hermione, sitting on his desk. He might as well answer them now.

Harry briefly considered opening his trunk to get out his quill and parchment, thought better of it, and found a scrap of looseleaf and a pen instead.

_Ron—_

_Thanks for inviting me to the Burrow again. I was going to write and ask you to pick me up tonight, but Tonks told me today while I was mowing the lawn that Dumbledore was coming to pick me up for something, and he was going to drop me off with you when we're finished. I'll tell you all about it when I get there._

—_Harry _

Putting the newly written letter down on the desk, Harry picked up more parchment and started his response to Hermione.

_Hermione—_

_Glad to hear that Italy's nice. I'm not at the Burrow yet, but by the time you get this, I will be. Dumbledore's going to pick me up sometime tonight or tomorrow—apparently there's something he wants to do—and he'll leave me at the Burrow once we're done._

_I do have something important to tell you and Ron, but I'm not going to until you're at the Burrow with us. Hope you're enjoying yourself in Rome._

_Best,_

—_Harry _

Harry put the letters in envelopes and addressed them, then poked Hedwig awake. She looked rather disgruntled at being awakened in the middle of the day, and made her displeasure known by nipping his finger harder than was really necessary, but put out her leg after a bit of coaxing and an owl treat from Harry. "Deliver Ron's letter first," he said. "Hermione's in Italy, so be careful, won't you?" Hedwig hooted softly and nipped his finger again, more gently this time, before gliding noiselessly out the open window.

Now that that was done, Harry sat back down on his bed and waited. Time was passing very, _very _slowly. He finally gave in and opened his trunk, pulling out his Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook, but _Defensive Magical Theory _was such a useless, dull book that it was an exercise in futility to attempt a first reading, let alone a second or third. The words just seemed to blur together on the page, and Harry understood why Dolores Umbridge had selected it as the fifth-year Defense book: it was completely free of anything remotely resembling useful. Finally sighing in frustration, he tossed the book aside and laid back on the bed. The sun was finally starting to set when Uncle Vernon came upstairs.

"Done with your chores, are you?" he asked, not quite rudely.

Harry simply nodded. He could tell it was driving Uncle Vernon crazy not to be able to insult Harry or his parents, and it was amusing to see his normally bullying uncle attempting to be polite, or, more appropriately, not as unpleasant as usual.

"There will be more tomorrow—the tool shed needs painting again, and I want two coats on it by the time I get home."

Harry turned to his uncle. Uncle Vernon wasn't going to like this, and he smirked inwardly. "I'm probably not going to be here tomorrow," he said matter-of-factly.

Uncle Vernon's face started to take on a more familiar red tinge. "What the ruddy hell d'you mean you're not going to be here tomorrow?" His voice started to rise, and his mustache began to twitch.

Harry tried hard not to let his internal smirk become an external one. Far from upsetting Harry, he'd discovered the therapeutic effects of riling up his uncle's temper. He was as tall as Vernon was now, something which was not lost on his uncle, and between his growth spurt and Moody's warning, Harry enjoyed taking the piss out of his uncle on occasion. "The Headmaster of my school's coming to get me tonight or tomorrow."

Uncle Vernon's face was now a definite shade of puce. "I'll not have any more freaks in my home!" he roared, then calmed slightly as Harry cocked an eyebrow at him. "If your ruddy head freak is coming to get you, you can damn well wait _outside!_" he snarled, then launched into a rant.

Harry simply stared at a point above Uncle Vernon's head as his uncle's tirade continued. He caught something about ingratitude and abnormal, but for the most part, he tuned out the shouting, and thought about that evening. Waiting outside wouldn't be that big of a deal, and it would probably preclude any unpleasantness when Dumbledore arrived at the house. Of course, if Dumbledore didn't arrive until tomorrow, it wouldn't be good, but Harry knew how to sneak in. He'd been locked out before. "All right," he said, in the most serene, agreeable tone of voice he could muster.

Whatever he had been expecting Harry's response to be, Uncle Vernon had not been prepared for calm agreement. It interrupted the rhythm of his yelling, and the rant came to a crashing halt. He looked uncertain of how to reply for a moment, then finally barked, "Right! Get outside then. And take the trash out when you go!"

Harry dragged his trunk down the stairs and left it by the front door, then headed into the kitchen and obediently took the trash outside. He shoved it into the trash cans, then dragged his trunk out, and plopped down on the front stoop next to it and Hedwig's empty cage. His wand was in his right front pocket, and his invisibility cloak was jammed in his left.

The wait was better outside than it was inside. The house was still stuffy from the heat of the day, and it felt much cooler outside. It was a fair evening and Harry watched the sun set over Little Whingig. A few cars passed, but Privet Drive was rather quiet this evening. There was a whisper of a breeze, and Harry turned his face into it, enjoying the feel of the wind ruffling his hair.

He waited like that for a while. Then a while longer. As the stars came out, Harry amused himself by trying to remember their names, but somehow, five years of Astronomy classes still hadn't enabled him to do much more than find the North Star and a few others. He recognized the star Sirius shining in the sky, and belatedly remembered it was also called the Dog Star, which to Harry's thinking, was entirely appropriate. Finally, beginning to wonder if Dumbledore was coming at all that night, Harry stood up and stretched. It had to be around midnight, and he was seriously debating on whether or not he should sneak back into the house and wait for tomorrow when there was a sound like the swish of a cloak, and Albus Dumbledore stood in front of Harry, smiling benignly. Harry had never heard anyone Apparate quite that silently, and it was an impressive entrance.

"Good evening, Harry," he said pleasantly. "I'm gratified to see that you're ready for our little expedition. Do you have your wand and cloak?"

Harry nodded.

"Excellent. Well, then, if you'll just leave your trunk and your owl's cage here, I'm sure that the Order will get it to the Burrow. Let's go." Dumbledore set off down the road, humming cheerfully to himself, and Harry followed, still wondering what they were off to do.


	2. Chapter 2

II.

Lesson in the Forest

As they walked down Privet Drive, Dumbledore pulled his wand out of his robes, and motioned for Harry to do the same. "Where we are off to, Harry, there is a slight risk of danger. Don't worry about the Ministry; just concern yourself with defense. You're with me, so your magic shouldn't be detected anyway."

Harry nodded. "Where are we going, sir?"

Dumbledore nodded at the ground at the end of Privet Drive, where Harry could barely make out an old copy of the _Daily Mirror_. "That Portkey will take us to Hogwarts; specifically, the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Inside, I will begin teaching you things that you need to know in order to destroy Lord Voldemort." He looked at Harry, his expression unusually somber. "I must apologize again for how I kept the Prophecy from you until now, Harry. From now on, though I cannot be the one to settle things with Voldemort, I will do everything in my power to assist you in your task."

Harry nodded again. "Thank you, sir." He hesitated a second, then said, "I'm sorry for wrecking your office."

To his surprise, Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "Quite all right, my boy. Believe it or not, I can understand how you felt at the time." He stopped walking as they reached the old newspaper. "Here we are. Grab hold, Harry, and don't let go!"

Harry braced himself, then grabbed the newspaper right as Dumbledore did. Almost immediately, he felt the familiar and unpleasant hook-behind-the-navel sensation of Portkey travel. Space and time flew past him in a barrage of swirling colors, until suddenly everything stopped moving, and he fell face first onto the damp grass outside of the Forbidden Forest. Merlin, he hated Portkey travel. Like Floo travel, it always seemed to finish up with him flat on his face.

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled again. He offered Harry an arm up, which Harry gratefully accepted, then lit his wand and set off into the forest. Harry followed, feeling a bit apprehensive about heading into the forest again. Considering his past experiences there, he thought it was a perfectly reasonable feeling to have. Between witnessing Quirrell drinking unicorn blood to sustain Voldemort, the vicious acromantulas that Hagrid had somehow befriended, and the giant Grawp, Harry had had enough bad experiences in the Forest to last a lifetime. The centaurs wouldn't be happy to see humans walking about what they considered their domain, either. He caught up with Dumbledore. "Professor, what about the centaurs? They weren't too pleased when Hermione and I came in here with Umbridge."

Dumbledore smiled. "Not to worry, dear boy. The centaurs are well aware of how I've campaigned for decades in support of better relations between wizards and the rest of the magical world." His smile disappeared. "Unfortunately, my lobbying has usually gone unheeded, and, again, we seem to be reaping what we have sown. More and more giants are flocking to Voldemort's banner, as are the vampires, and naturally, the dementors."

This was an unpleasant surprise to Harry. He'd known that the dementors would join Voldemort as soon as he'd declared himself and asked, but he'd hoped that Hagrid's and Dumbledore's messages of goodwill had gotten through to some of the giants. Vampires, though... "Why vampires, sir? They're already dead; how does Voldemort have any influence over them?"

"In the same way he has influence over the dementors, Harry. He can offer them outlets for their desires and needs that we will not. Give them unfettered access to human blood, and they'll be more than happy to do his dirty work. Most of them, that is. There are a few who are to vampires as Remus Lupin is to werewolves. Keep in mind also, that wizards can still destroy vampires. There exist at least three different spells for that express purpose. I suspect that you'll be learning them in N.E.W.T. Defense Against the Dark Arts. Already, the Ministry has suppressed reports of vampire attacks in conjunction with dementor attacks. They're trying to keep people calm, but it can't last forever." Dumbledore paused as he looked around the forest, into which they'd walked as they were speaking. "Just a bit further, Harry. There should be a clearing coming up soon, and there, we'll begin."

They walked on for a few more minutes in silence, until they came to the clearing Dumbledore had mentioned. "Here we are." With a twirl of his wand, he conjured two comfortable-looking chintz armchairs and a low table between them, complete with tea and biscuits. "Have a seat, my boy." When Harry was comfortably seated, Dumbledore said, "Surely you are wondering why I have plucked you out of your summer vacation to take a midnight hike through the Forbidden Forest?"

"The question had occurred to me, sir," Harry said. Dumbledore smiled.

"Well, it is one place where I can be certain that two conditions will apply. One, no one knows where we are, and two, we will not be overheard. No other place fits that description, really. It would be impossible for Voldemort to track you here, though you've left the protective wards of Privet Drive.

"Now, the first thing we must talk about is Voldemort's immortality. As you told me he'd said in the graveyard, one of his experiments to preserve his life in the face of death must have worked. Since that night, I've been searching nonstop for what he could have possibly done to prevent the Killing Curse from killing him when it rebounded off of you." Dumbledore paused, and looked Harry in the eyes. "Tonight, I believe I've found how he managed it. Let me first tell you how I came to this conclusion." Harry leaned back in the chair and prepared for a long story.

Dumbledore poured himself a cup of tea, then offered some to Harry, who politely declined. The headmaster took a sip of his tea, then began.

"My suspicions that he might have somehow pulled it off began the night your parents were murdered and you received your scar. I had arrived on the scene soon after the incident, and in addition to a few Aurors from the Ministry, there were a number of your parents' Muggle neighbors standing around, in shock, it seemed. From their testimony, and careful use of my skills in Legilimency, I determined that several of them had seen something strange, something that had terrified them into shock. Using my Pensive afterwards to reexamine all of those interviews, I was able to put together a picture of what they had seen that night." He paused to take a sip of tea, and Harry realized that he was sitting on the edge of his chair. He forced himself to relax.

Dumbledore put down his tea on the table and continued. "It seems that several of your parents' neighbors had been out for a walk that night. Shortly before your house was destroyed, they reported a mysterious figure, clad entirely in black robes, making its way towards the house. Being Halloween, they didn't think twice about it, given that there were people all over the streets dressed in a similar manner. This, of course, was Voldemort.

"They also reported seeing a large snake following him, and the one that caught a glimpse of his face claimed it was the most disturbing mask she'd ever seen. Their curiosity now naturally aroused, they stood at the fence, trying to see what was going on. They saw the figure somehow open the door and enter the bulding. They heard shouting, then saw several multicolored flashes of light, before a final pair of bright flashes of green light through the windows, about a minute apart."

Harry shuddered. There was no mistaking what that had been. Dumbledore paused and glanced at him, but Harry shook his head, and Dumbledore continued.

"Now, after that, they report that there was a third green flash, considerably brighter than the first two, followed almost immediately by a huge explosion. Most of the neighbors were knocked unconscious by the force of it, but three of them stayed sensible, and they reported a scream like they'd never heard before. Then, seconds later, they saw a strange misty shadow, with glowing red eyes, fly past them and off into the night."

Harry felt a twinge of uneasiness. "That was Voldemort being ripped out of his body, then."

"Quite right. From that moment onward, I worked under the assumption that Voldemort had indeed managed to succeed in one or more of his experiments, which was finally confirmed when he attempted to seize the Philosopher's Stone. You know the rest of the story. While every other wizard and witch was doubtless celebrating his downfall, I was certain he would return again; thus, your placement with Lily's sister. Now," Dumbledore said, more quietly, and with much more seriousness than Harry had ever heard in his voice. "We are about to discuss some of the darkest of the Dark Arts. These are spells that are purely evil, with no imaginable good intent."

Harry felt a tingle of apprehension run down his spine. There were more spells that were as purely evil as the Unforgivables? He asked Dumbledore the same question.

"Unfortunately, Harry, yes," said Dumbledore. "Fortunately, they are ancient spells, mostly lost in time, buried deep within forgotten manuscripts or inscribed in undiscovered ruins. A number of these deal with achieving immortality, and from the beginning, I was sure it was one of these which Voldemort had used to do it. The depth of his knowledge of magic is quite astounding. I daresay he knows more about some kinds of magic than I do, especially these kinds of spells.

"By any reasonable definition, these are evil, vicious, brutal spells, for they deal with immortality, and the only known way to avoid death is to cause one. The specifics vary, but based on my research, the spell he used works thus: If one kills in the proper manner, say, with the Killing Curse or another Dark curse, one can actually magically bind the soul of the one who has been killed to the killer's own soul. It is not unlike the Dementor's Kiss, with the exception that the bonded soul is not destroyed. It instead lives in a state of torment, unable to depart this plane of existence, and unable to return to its body." Dumbledore paused and looked searchingly at Harry again.

"I'm fine, Professor," said Harry, hearing the unspoken question. He paused for a second, then had a horrible thought. "Does that mean that... my parents are bonded to Voldemort?"

"Actually, I don't think they are," said Dumbledore, and Harry sighed in relief. "You see, the killer does not usually immediately bind those souls to his own; the ritual required to do that is quite complex and takes a considerable amount of time. Rather, in every account of its use that I've read, the killer instead holds those souls in a sort of magical prison, usually a magically powerful object. A wand is the most common, but certain potions or enchanted objects can work as well. These souls can be released, for example by destroying the container or by the _Priori Incantatem_ effect. In your case, when your wand forced Voldemort's to emit the shadows of your parents, I believe it released their souls from his wand, along with those of Cedric Diggory, Bertha Jorkins, and the old Muggle man. I believe that Voldemort was _not _immortal that night in the graveyard when he returned, though he has surely rectified that since, and possibly with multiple souls."

Harry groaned. "You mean I could have killed him then and be done with it? I knew the Killing Curse, and I could have used it..."

"NO!" shouted Dumbledore, and Harry stopped in shock. He'd never heard the headmaster shout like that. "Harry, never regret not using the Killing Curse! In fact, I'm not even sure that you would be able to cast it. Do you realize what it requires to be able to cast that spell on a human?" Harry shook his head dumbly, shocked by Dumbledore's sudden vehemence. "It requires hate. Hate so powerful, so strong that it cannot be enough to hate the victim, but to truly wish them dead, to want to see it happen. You essentially pour all your hatred into wishing them dead, and if it's enough, they are. That's the way the Killing Curse works That is why so very few can cast it against another human. I myself have never been able to cast it at all." He paused and looked at Harry for a short while, then, almost imperceptibly, nodded, as if he'd come to a decision. "I suspect that you won't either. Try it now."

"What?!" Harry was quite sure he'd misheard Dumbledore.

"Try it. Not on anything in particular, just try to cast it. Concentrate all your hatred, all your anger towards Voldemort, and all of his works, and cast it."

"Are you sure, sir?"

Dumbledore nodded gravely. "I am. You need to understand it, because, though it may not seem like it, Voldemort's ability to cast it may be his greatest weakness."

Harry, still unsure of this, started focusing on what Voldemort had done to him and to the Wizarding world. He thought of all those members of the Order of the Phoenix in that picture that Moody had shown him last summer. He saw in his mind's eye Voldemort coldly ordering the murder of Cedric Diggory at the graveyard: _Kill the spare!_ A faint echo of his parents' last moments seemed to reach his ears. The torture of the Longbottoms: seeing the transformation of Neville's parents from happy, popular wizards in old pictures to thin, wizened, prematurely elderly people with no sanity, locked for the rest of their lives in St. Mungo's. Bellatrix Lestrange shrieking in glee as Sirius was blasted through the veil in the Department of Mysteries. Hermione laying motionless on the floor after taking Antonin Dolohov's silent curse. Neville being tortured by the same witch who had tortured his parents into insanity. Ron being badly addled by the brains. Hermione lying Petrified in the hospital wing. Ginny Weasley weak and passed out in the Chamber of Secrets, her life force being absorbed by the malevolent spirit of the Dark Lord. Harry felt a hatred so powerful fill him it made his stomach hurt and his legs shake. A painful flare went through his scar. The hate was like a black cloud forming in his head and chest; a red haze seemed to come over his vision. With a trembling hand, he pointed his wand at a stone in the clearing and shouted, "_Avada Kedavra!_"

A couple of glowing green sparks dropped out of the tip of his wand and blackened a few blades of grass on the ground. Harry dropped to his knees, drained. He felt the remnants of his dinner start to come up his throat, but he forced them back down. The hatred was beginning to dissipate, leaving behind fatigue and emptiness in its wake.

"You see?" said Dumbledore quietly, kneeling next to him. "I'm so very sorry to do this to you, dear boy, but you must understand. You are a fundamentally good human being. You simply cannot summon enough hatred to cast this spell, and those that can are usually affected by the amount of negative emotions it requires."

"How does he do it, then?" whispered Harry, shocked at how much it had drained him. His entire wand arm was shaking and his legs felt barely up to the task of holding up his body. "Every time I've seen him cast it, it never seems to affect him in the least. How does he summon up that much hatred? How could he hate anyone so much that it's effortless for him to use it?"

"I don't know, Harry," said Dumbledore softly, "and I suspect no one ever will. But you have the power that he knows not, the power that can counter that hatred."

Harry sat up. "What is it, sir? I've been thinking about it for weeks, and I still can't come up with anything."

Dumbledore looked Harry straight in the eye. "Love, my boy. Love for those close to you, and the love they feel for you. It is a power that he cannot understand, cannot feel, and so, you have the advantage. You can understand hate, can feel hate, but it is overwhelmed by your ability to love. It is this ability to love that will allow you to conquer him in the end." He helped Harry back into his chair and poured him a cup of tea, adding plenty of sugar. Harry took the tea this time, and found that it revived him somewhat. So...love? Just love? That was a bit anticlimactic, Harry thought. He'd been rather hoping for some hidden reserve of power to tap into, or a powerful spell that he could use.

"Now, said Dumbledore, "back to my story. The way a soul bond works is that in the event the caster suffers a mortal injury or is hit with a deadly curse, it is instead the bonded souls that are ripped away, instead of the bonder's. Furthermore, the spell regenerates the body over time, so long as it is not completely destroyed. This is how he was able to survive the reflected Killing Curse, though it would have normally not harmed his body. I believe his body was destroyed by the magical feedback caused by your mother's sacrifice. A sort of magical contradiction, if you will. Love and hate clashing, with the love of your mother for you winning out."

"But how do we release the souls that he's bonded?" asked Harry.

"Honestly, I'm not entirely sure," said Dumbledore. "I have a few lines of research that are looking quite promising, but, for the moment, at least, I am as much in the dark as you are. I assure you that when I find something, I will tell you as soon as I have the information together.

"Now," said Dumbledore, "we'll begin the second reason I brought you here tonight. As we found out to our great misfortune, Professor Snape was unable to overcome his loathing of your father and properly teach you Occlumency. I shall attempt to rectify my error in that matter. How much did Professor Snape teach you?"

"Not much," said Harry. "Mainly, he told me to clear my mind and then he used Legilimency on me."

Dumbledore sighed. "That will never do. Occlumency requires much more than being told to clear your mind. You first need some relaxation exercises." The headmaster got up out of his chair and motioned for Harry to do the same. "Sit down on the ground across me, and close your eyes."

Harry obeyed, already noting the drastic differences between the teaching styles of Snape and Dumbledore.

"Now, draw in a breath and slowly release it. Close your eyes and focus on the feeling of your breath going in and out. Then, try to relax your body bit by bit. When you feel relaxed, try to empty your mind of everything. The preparation for Occlumency is essentially meditation. If that doesn't work, concentrate on something innocuous and simple, but strong. I always found that a blank wall worked best for that."

Harry followed Dumbledore's directions, and found that the tension he'd felt after the test of the Killing Curse ebbed away. He focused his mind on a blank gray wall, and maintained that mental image. Things started to go a little fuzzy, as though all of his senses were being filtered through a thin shroud. In the distance, he heard Dumbledore's voice say, "I will now make an attempt to breach your mental shields. _Legilimens!_"

The attempt was much gentler than Snape's. Instead of the all-out assault on Harry's mind, he felt a bizarre prodding, poking sensation as Dumbledore's consciousness tested Harry's mental wall for holes or weak places. Resolutely keeping his mind on the blank wall, Harry focused on keeping Dumbledore's mind out of his head. The prodding grew more insistent, until, finally, with the disconcerting sensation of an object going through his head, Dumbledore broke through. A fuzzy image of Ron cheering for Ireland at the Quidditch World Cup two years previous swam before his eyes as the Headmaster broke through.

Harry felt Dumbledore withdraw from his mind as soon as he realized he'd broken through. He opened his eyes and found Dumbledore smiling at him. "Well done, Harry. That was well done for a first time. You managed to keep me out for some time, until I mustered enough strength to break through. Your shield is quite good for a first attempt—it took me a bit of time to find a weak spot. Now, it is true that the accomplished Occlumens will be able to not only maintain their defenses, but reinforce them and shore up weak points, but that will come later, much later. For now, we'll concentrate on just keeping people out, first actively, and then passively." Harry nodded, and Dumbledore continued. "This is a bit closer to what you can expect from Voldemort. He rarely goes for the all out attack as Professor Snape seemed inclined to do, unless he wants information quickly. Many of those in the presence of Voldemort do not even realize they are being probed. I must also warn you that I was looking mainly for innocuous memories, things that would not disturb you if they were revealed. Voldemort won't be so courteous."

Harry nodded again.

"I'm going to try again. This time, I'll be a bit more energetic, so be warned. Concentrate on maintaining the wall, not trying to shore it up or anything complex. Relax yourself again, like you did before. Ready? _Legilimens!_"

The attack was more powerful this time, and Harry felt a strong push against his mental shield. Instead of just sitting back and taking it as he had last time, he focused on pushing against Dumbledore's mind with all of his willpower. The effort was very draining, and the conscious part of his mind noted that he was trembling and sweat was breaking out on his forehead. He felt Dumbledore withdraw from his mind without breaking through.

"Well done, Harry!" said Dumbledore, and he looked quite pleased. "Excellent! You were able to keep me out entirely, but it seems to have tired you out, and had I kept it up, I believe you would have broken." Harry privately agreed. He felt mentally exhausted, and he felt a tremor pass through his body. Dumbledore seemed to notice his weariness, for he said, "That will be more than enough for tonight. Mental magic is based primarily upon strength of will, but it can take its toll on the body as well as the mind. I want you to focus on the relaxation exercise you learned this evening, and try to do it every night before you go to sleep." He glanced at a very complicated pocket watch with twelve hands. "I fear that I've kept you later than I intended, but I feel that you learned a great deal tonight. We won't have any more lessons until September, but we'll have them fairly often once the year begins." Dumbledore picked up a small rock off the ground, and Vanished the chairs and table with tea service. He pointed his wand at the rock, and muttered, _"Portus!_" The rock briefly glowed blue as it turned into a Portkey.

"Are you coming with me to the Burrow, sir?" asked Harry.

"Only to make sure you arrive safely," said Dumbledore. "I informed Molly and Arthur of my intention to arrive tonight, and they should be waiting for you." He started to offer the Portkey to Harry, but paused. "One other thing. Have you told Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger about the Prophecy?"

Harry shook his head. "No, sir, but I'm going to as soon as the three of us are together."

Dumbledore twinkled at him. "Excellent. Then, let us be off!"

With that, Harry touched the Portkey, Dumbledore tapped it with his wand, and they went swirling off into the stream of color and sound of Portkey travel.

***

With a thunk, Harry landed on his face for the second time that evening, and this time, felt the bridge of his glasses snap. He choked back a curse while Dumbledore helped him up and repaired the glasses with a tap of his wand. He put on his glasses and looked up, expecting to see the ramshackle but comfortable home of the Weasleys. In front of him, however, instead of the Burrow like he'd expected, was nothing but a copse of trees.

"Where's the Burrow, sir?" asked Harry, starting to feel concerned.

"Not to worry, dear boy," said Dumbledore, then leaned down and whispered in his ear, "The Burrow is located right outside the village of Ottery St. Catchpole, about twenty yards in front of you." The words were perfectly ordinary, but they had a strange weight to them, almost as though they were a spell...

Harry looked up, and in place of the copse of trees was the familiar crooked structure of the Burrow, Harry's favorite place in the world aside from Hogwarts. A feeling of warmth filled him; this was the one place in the Wizarding world where everyone present truly cared about him.

"Come along, Harry" said Dumbledore, and together, they headed towards the kitchen door of the house. A golden light came from the open window next to it. Dumbledore knocked softly on the door, and Molly Weasley cracked it open, her round face anxious.

"Is that you, Albus?" she whispered, then saw Harry. "Harry, dear! Come in, both of you! Arthur was called in by the Ministry, but he should be back soon. Something about some trouble with a set of exploding teacups." She opened the door so that they could get in. Harry noticed that she was looking a little careworn and had obviously lost some weight since the end of the year. He felt a twinge of sympathy towards her; after all, she had four sons and a husband active in the Order, not to mention another son who was a close friend of the primary target of the Dark Lord. Harry shuddered at that and looked at the ground. Maybe it would be better if he just left everyone behind and hunted down Voldemort on his own...

He realized Dumbledore was staring at him, a grave look on his face, and Harry had the sudden feeling that his headmaster had realized the direction of his thoughts. He felt Dumbledore's hand on his shoulder, and heard him say to Mrs. Weasley, "If you don't mind, Molly, I'd like to talk to Harry alone for a minute, and then I'll be out of your hair."

"Of course, Albus," he heard her reply. "Harry," she said, and he looked up at her. She was looking at him in a very concerned fashion. "I'll be in the sitting room when Professor Dumbledore is through. Ron and Ginny are upstairs asleep. I think Fred and George are, too—I'm never sure with those boys. You'll be in with Ron for now."

He nodded in reply.

"Well, then, I'll wish you good night now, Albus," she said.

Dumbledore replied with a good night of his own, waited until she'd left the kitchen and shut the door, then turned to Harry, a solemn expression on his face. "Harry, you can't do this on your own."

"I know, Professor," said Harry, and before he could stop himself, he said, "I'm just so worried that Ron or Hermione or another one of the Weasleys, or Professor Lupin, or someone will get hurt, and it will be my fault because they're close to me."

Dumbledore's expression softened. "I know how it feels, Harry, but think of it this way. Arthur Weasley is one of the most outspoken proponents of complete integration of Muggleborns into our society, as well as for expanded protection of Muggles in general, not to mention publicly opposed to all of Voldemort's policies. Indeed, the Weasley family has been known for generations for their outspoken attitudes against pureblood supremacy and Muggle oppression. He and his family would likely be on the top of the list even if they had little to do with you. The animosity between the Weasly and Malfoy families goes back several generations. The same goes for Remus Lupin, and Miss Granger would be in danger anyway, as she is a very talented Muggle-born witch, and thus represents the height of pureblood fears—a Muggle-born more powerful than most pure bloods!" He looked Harry squarely in the eyes, and though his expression was still serious, Harry could still see a twinkle in his bright blue eyes. "I want you to stop worrying about this, Harry. The Order has already made considerable provisions for the protection of the Weasleys and Grangers, and unless I'm very much mistaken, if you ever left by yourself to fight Voldemort, Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger would be after you to help in any way they could—or to drag you back—before we could stop them."

Feeling a bit foolish at his earlier desire to run away and finish it, Harry said, "I know they would, it's just that..." He hung his head. "I don't want anything to happen to them. They don't have the Prophecy hanging over their heads."

Dumbledore's expression softened even further. "I know it's a heavy burden for you to bear, Harry, but they can help ease it for you, if you let them." Dumbledore clapped Harry on the shoulder, winked, and with a soft swish, Disapparated.

Harry stood still for a moment. His original decision to share the Prophecy had been the correct one, according to Dumbledore. He still remembered the determination with which he'd made that decision earlier that evening, but it seemed different now. As he considered not doing it, a voice came unbidden into his brain: _Have you never paused, while feeling hard-done-by, to note that following __Dumbledore's orders has never led you into harm?_ He recognized the words as those of Phineas Nigellus, the snide and irritating portrait of a former headmaster in Grimmauld Place, but the voice had a point. Silently, Harry resolved again to tell Ron and Hermione the Prophecy.

Mrs. Weasley came back into the kitchen just then and gave Harry a motherly hug. "It's wonderful to see you again, dear!" she exclaimed, then started going through the pantry. "You're looking so thin, we've got to start putting weight on you. Are you hungry, dear?" Before he could answer her question, she did it for him: "Of course you are, boys your age are always hungry..." Harry opened his mouth to say that it was all right, he just wanted to go to bed, when a bowl of steaming hot split pea soup appeared in front of him. "Well, go on, then," she said, looking at him expectantly, and Harry, feeling an odd mixture of irritation at her fussing and gratification that she cared enough to fuss, dug into the soup. It was quite good, and he ate with gusto.

The soup disappeared quickly, and he looked up to see Mrs. Weasley smiling at him. "Thanks for the soup, Mrs. Weasley," he said, then got up and yawned. "I guess I'll turn in."

"Of course, dear, you must be dead tired. Your things are already in Ron's room." She gave him another hug, and then Harry headed upstairs. He heard Ron snoring even before he eased the door open. Once he was on the room, he got out of his clothes and into his pajamas and got under the covers, feeling content and happy for the first time in a while.


	3. Chapter 3

III.

Home Again

Harry awoke the next morning to the sensation of a large mass impacting his bed at a high velocity. He sat up and blinked, seeing a pale blur that looked like it was on fire sitting on the end of his bed. He reached over to the nightstand next to the bed and put his glasses on, and turned around to see his best friend, Ron Weasley, sitting on the end of his bed, grinning.

"What's goin' on, mate?" asked Ron, still grinning like mad.

"Nothing too much," said Harry, neglecting to mention his session with Dumbledore the previous night. "Why are you so bloody cheerful?"

"Ginny broke up with Dean," said Ron, with a distinctly smug air. "He was two-timing her with some Muggle girl. Fred and George saw in him Muggle London snogging her face off." He gave Harry an odd look, one vaguely reminiscent of the one he'd given Harry on the Hogwarts Express, then grinned again. "So were the Muggles all right?"

"They were fine," said Harry. He shrugged. "I left them alone, they left me alone. I did what they asked, they fed me and didn't lock all my things away. Would've been a...well, not great, but less-lousy-than-usual summer, but..." He trailed off, and Ron looked sympathetic in his awkward way.

"You all right, Harry?" he asked tentatively, and Harry noticed with a warm feeling the hint of concern in Ron's voice. He'd never been the most sensitive of people by any stretch of the imagination, but he was Harry's best friend, and knew him better than anyone else, even Hermione.

Harry shrugged again in response. "It's getting better. I missed him a lot, but I realized that, you know, I shouldn't just brood on it constantly; he wouldn't want me to. It still hurts, but it's getting better." The pain in his stomach from thinking about Sirius's death was mercifully shorter and weaker than it had been—it was getting better by the day. Now he just had the Prophecy to worry about. A new feeling of fear filled him, but he ruthlessly pushed it down. It must have shown on his face for a moment, however, since Ron gave him a strange look.

"Is there something else?" Ron asked. Harry was surprised at Ron's insight.

"Yeah, there is," said Harry, "and I think I need to tell you, but I want to wait until Hermione gets back."

Ron nodded again and looked like he was about to say something when a shout echoed upstairs from the kitchen. "Ronald! Did you wake Harry? Tell him breakfast is ready!" Apparently, Mrs. Weasley was none the worse for how late she'd stayed up the previous night.

"Yeah, we're coming, Mum!" Ron shouted back, then turned to Harry again, obviously distracted by the idea of food. "You heard her, mate, time for breakfast!" With that, Ron leaped off the end of the bed and rushed down to the kitchen, his footsteps echoing loudly.

Harry rolled out of bed and put on some clothes, then followed Ron's path downstairs in a more sedate manner.

The kitchen was bright and cheery, with sunlight pouring in through the windows, tinting everything gold. Ron was already at the table, attacking his breakfast with an almost animal ferocity. His younger sister Ginny was sitting across the table from him, eating her breakfast with less abandon and watching her brother gorge himself with a mixture of amusement and disgust. Harry sat down next to Ron, careful to put a bit of space between them lest Ron forget himself and turn to talk to him with his mouth still full.

Mrs. Weasley placed a platter covered in eggs, toast, bacon, sausage, and fried tomatoes in front of him, and his stomach let out a loud gurgle, letting Harry know its displeasure at the lack of proper meals since the end of the term (despite Moody's warning, the Dursleys still gave him the smallest portions by far). He picked up his fork and dug in.

It was delicious; he hadn't had such a good breakfast since before the O.W.L.s. The eggs were fried to perfection, the bacon was crisp without being burned, and the butter had soaked into the toast in a most marvelous way. The sausages were firm on the outside and tender inside, with a rich flavor, and the fried tomatoes were juicy and sweet. In what seemed like no time at all, Harry had finished his breakfast. Ron was going strong on his second helping, but Ginny seemed to be done and he was feeling a bit full from all the good food, so he pushed his plate aside and looked up at her.

"How's your summer been?" he asked, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the edge of the table.

Ginny shrugged. "It's been all right, I suppose. You heard about Dean and I?"

Harry blinked. He'd not expected her to bring that up with _him_, at least, so soon after the fact. "Yeah, Ron mentioned it." He was silent for a second, then added "I'm sorry."

Ginny snorted. "Don't be. It was doomed from the beginning. Even before Fred and George saw him walking 'round London with some other girl, I was thinking of dropping him anyway." She sighed. "His letters were so bloody _boring! _All he did was moan about having so many siblings, and how hard it was to have so many of them, and so on. As if I don't know! When Fred and George told me about it, they seemed a little worried about how I would take it, but honestly, I wasn't all _that _hacked off about it, though I did send him a hex along with the break-up letter."

Harry grinned at her. "Dare I ask which?"

She returned his grin. "What do you think? Bat-Bogey, of course!"

Harry stared at Ginny for a second before bursting out in laughter. The image of Dean Thomas being attacked by giant flying bogeys was just too much. Upon catching his breath, he smiled at her again. "Wicked, Ginny!" She just smiled back.

Ron came up for air just then, looking at Harry oddly. "What's so bloody funny?"

Harry checked to make sure that Mrs. Weasley was out of earshot before replying. "Ginny was just telling me about her little letter to Dean."

Ron chuckled, narrowly missing Harry with bits of partly-chewed bacon. "I watched her send it. Fred and George suggested including something of theirs, but Ginny decided on a hex."

"After all, Bat-Bogey does wear off after a little while," she said, "but some of Fred and George's inventions—well, let's just say that not all of them are reversible at the moment. I may have been hacked off at Dean, but I didn't want him going around with rabbit ears and whiskers for the rest of his life." She glanced at Ron, who had put down his fork. "Looks like Ron's finished gorging himself. Fancy some Quidditch, you two?"

"Sure," said Ron, "but we're a bit short on people, and we don't have a Snitch..."

"So Harry and I can be Chasers and we can help you practice your keeping," said Ginny, and Harry nodded his agreement. Despite the sudden and complete reversal of Ron's abilities as a Keeper at last year's Quidditch Cup match against Ravenclaw, some extra practice wouldn't hurt him at all. Harry also knew that Ginny fancied being a Chaser rather than a Seeker, so it wouldn't hurt her either. As for him, well, he just loved to fly no matter what.

The three of them dropped their dishes off in the sink, where the dishes promptly started cleaning themselves, and headed upstairs to get their brooms. Harry pulled his glossy, shiny Firebolt out of his trunk. It looked none the worse for the wear despite having first spent several months chained up in Dolores Umbridge's office, and then being stowed in his trunk for a month. His jar of broom polish that he'd gotten from Hermione right before his third year was still almost full, only used a few times on his old Nimbus 2000. The twigs were as straight and as perfectly cut as they'd always been, and he shouldered it and headed downstairs, Ron tagging behind with his Cleansweep Eleven.

They met Ginny back downstairs in the kitchen. To Harry's surprise, she was carrying a Comet Three Twenty. "Nice broomstick," he said to her, and she grinned.

"Thanks, Harry. The twins said that if I was going to be on the team as a Chaser this year, I'd need a new broom. With all the money they've been making from the joke shop, it was no trouble."

The three of them headed out the kitchen door into the dusty front yard. Bright sunshine met Harry's eyes and he shaded them with his hand. The ever-present fat brown chickens were pecking at the ground, looking for food, and Ginny, who had apparently grabbed a handful of dried corn kernels on her way out, tossed the handful into the midst of the chickens. They immediately began pecking at the kernels, as Harry, Ron, and Ginny walked past them towards the open field where they played Quidditch.

After a short and pleasant walk through the woods, the three of them arrived. Ginny held back a moment. Ron just shrugged, and took off into the bright morning sky. Harry went to see if anything was the matter, but Ginny waved him off. "Just tying my hair back," she said, even as she pulled it back into a long red ponytail.

"All right, then," said Harry, and without further ado, he pushed off on his Firebolt.

It was an incredible feeling to be soaring through the air, with the wind roaring in his ears and blowing back his hair. Harry thought that he would never get bored of that sensation, and unable to restrain himself anymore, he let out a whoop of pure delight. It had really been _far _too long since he'd been flying, and he wallowed in the swooping sensation in his stomach as he launched into one of his specialty dives.

"C'mon, Harry!" he heard Ginny shout, and Harry jerked the Firebolt around to see Ron already hovering in Keeping position in front of the makeshift wooden goals, and Ginny waving to him with a Muggle football under her other arm. "Catch!"

She tossed the football at him, and he was amazed at how good her arm was. Harry caught it deftly, stuck it under his arm (he'd had plenty of experience acting as a Chaser during Quidditch tryouts over the years) and grinned as she cheered. Then he streaked at Ron, pushing the Firebolt as hard as he could, while jerking from left to right and jinking up and down. As Harry roared past Ron, he hurled the football as hard as he could at the left side hoop, then brought the Firebolt around just in time to see Ron catch it and throw it to Ginny, laughing.

"You'll have to do better than that, Potter!" Ron shouted teasingly.

Harry opened his mouth to shout back an appropriate retort, but before any words could come out, a burning pain swept along his scar, making his forehead feel like it was being branded with a red hot iron. A hoarse yell escaped his throat instead of words, and his hands instinctively reached up and grasped his head. Harry saw Ron and Ginny rushing towards him through the dense fog that was enveloping his vision, felt a brief falling sensation, and then blacked out.

_...He was standing in a dark chamber, one hand gripping a large chair hewn from obsidian, the other loosely holding a wand at his side, pointed downwards. A man knelt before him, robed in black. __The man raised his face to look at him, and Harry saw he was wearing a stark white mask. There was, however, no mistaking those icy gray eyes._

_"My Lord," drawled Lucius Malfoy, "We have been successful in locating the Granger Mudblood in Rome."_

_Harry felt a flood of fear rush through him even as a wave of someone else's delight surged through his mind._

_"Well done, Lucius," said Harry, but the words came in the cold, controlled, strangely high-pitched voice of Voldemort. "I want you to take Mulciber and Avery, and return to Rome and monitor the Mudblood. Wait for further instructions. Dumbledore may well have placed protections around her. You may go."_

_Malfoy bowed even lower, his forehead nearly touching the ground, then backed away from Harry, who turned to another black-robed man. "Send in Bellatrix."_

_The Death Eater bowed low, then opened a well-concealed door and beckoned in another black robed figure, this one clearly a woman._

_"I live to serve you, My Lord," said Bellatrix, splaying herself out on the flagstone floor before Harry._

_"Listen well, Bella." said Harry. "This is your chance to redeem yourself for the failure in the Department of Mysteries. Take five of the new recruits and..." Harry felt his lips move into a chilling smile. "Remind the Ministry why they fear to speak my name."_

_"I shall begin immediately, My Lord," said Bellatrix, and she backed away and exited from the same door she entered._

_Harry looked up and saw himself in a mirror on the wall, and realized that he was once again in Voldemort's head, dragged there by the strange connection between them. The glowing red eyes seemed to flicker green for a moment, and then Harry felt a savage push against his mind._

_"POTTER!" Voldemort snarled. "OUT!"_

Harry blinked, his head feeling like a parade was stomping through it, complete with a hundred- piece marching band. He laid on the ground for a moment, staring at the sky. Then he remembered what he'd seen and heard from Voldemort. "HERMIONE!" he shouted, jerking upright, and the parade in his head gained several more percussionists. Ron and Ginny drew back, startled by the sudden outburst. Harry stood up. "I need to talk to Dumbledore," he muttered, and sprinted for his broom, which had come down only a few yards away. "Voldemort's having Hermione followed!"

Sprinting turned out to be a rather bad idea. He had to stop as the pounding in his head doubled again. The world spun around him, and for moment, there were two Rons, two Ginnys, and two Firebolts laying on the ground. The corners of his vision went dark. Harry fought to remain conscious, and succeeded but fell to his knees.

"Slow down, Harry, what did you see?" asked Ginny.

"Voldemort"—both Ron and Ginny shuddered slightly—"was talking to Malfoy, telling him to take a couple other Death Eaters and monitor Hermione closely and wait for further instructions." He felt very nauseous, like he usually did after a vision, but managed to fight it back enough to not throw up on Ginny's trainers.

He felt a pair of strong hands helping him up. "Come on, mate," said Ron, guiding him towards his Firebolt. "Easy does it. We can't help-" Ron's voice broke for a second "-Hermione if you're out cold." The pounding in his head subsided somewhat as Harry, guided by his best friend, walked at a more sedate pace towards his broom.

Ginny came on his other side and helped Ron support him, though Harry suspected that Ron had it in hand. She gently rubbed his back. "Let's get back, and then we can Floo Dumbledore's office." Harry nodded, and immediately regretted it, as his headache came back again. Mercifully, it subsided back to a dull throb after a few seconds.

He mounted his Firebolt a bit shakily, then took off, keeping his speed down. Ron and Ginny followed, and they arrived back at the Burrow within a couple of minutes.

Once he'd landed, Harry walked as fast as he could toward the fireplace in the sitting room, praying that Dumbledore would be in his office. His head was still pounding, but he ignored it. And what if Dumbledore wasn't in his office? How would Harry get in contact with him? He grabbed a handful of Floo powder from the pot on the mantelpiece and tossed it into the fireplace, shouting, "Headmaster's office at Hogwarts!" The fireplace immediately burst into emerald green flames, and Harry bent forward to stick his head into them, remembering belatedly that there had been a very unpleasant whirling sensation the last time he'd done this. Well, there was nothing else for it, so he squeezed his eyes shut and stuck his head into the flames.

The whirling made him nauseous all over again, and he hoped desperately that he wouldn't be sick all over Professor Dumbledore's fireplace.

Finally, he felt himself come to a halt, and opened his eyes to find himself staring into Professor Dumbledore's office. Dumbledore was nowhere to be seen. Harry cursed and shouted, "Professor Dumbledore!"

His heart leaped in his chest as a loud rustling sound filled the room and Dumbledore's head poked out of a closet, a few bits of parchment scattering into the air as he walked out and over to the fireplace. "Harry!" he said, clearly surprised. There was dust in his beard and his long blue robes were wrinkled. "This is a surprise. To what do I owe the pleasure?" He sat down in a chair and turned it to face the fireplace.

Harry took a deep breath, which unfortunately caused him to inhale some ashes, and he started coughing. "S-Sorry, sir," he said when he'd finished. "I was playing Quidditch with Ron and Ginny, and in the middle of it, I had a vision."

The change in Dumbledore was incredible. He'd been sitting in a chair, a pleasant smile on his face and his attitude was relaxed and calm. As soon as Harry said that he'd had a vision, Dumbledore's face took on a much more serious expression, and the hands that had been folded in his lap were now gripping the arms of the chair as the headmaster leaned forward. "What happened in the vision, Harry?"

"Voldemort was talking to Lucius Malfoy, and he told Malfoy to take two other Death Eaters—Mulciber and Wormtail, I think—and go to Rome and follow Hermione around. Then he brought in Bellatrix and told her to take some of the new recruits and, well, I suppose kill people. He said to make us remember why we fear to speak his name. Then, I guess he must have realized I was in his head, because he pushed me out."

Dumbledore didn't say anything for several moments. Instead, he placed his elbows on the arms of the chair and steepled his fingers under his chin. "So, Lucius has escaped from Azkaban..." he muttered, more to himself than Harry. "Thank you for this information, Harry," said Dumbledore at length. "I shall alert the Order at once, and we'll send some people to keep an eye on Miss Granger, and if needed, bring her to the Burrow."

Something suddenly pinged in his brain. He now realized that it had seemed rather odd for him to be brought to the Burrow instead of Grimmauld Place like they'd done last summer. "Why did you bring me to the Burrow instead of Grimmauld Place, Professor?" he asked.

"For two reasons, Harry. One, because the Burrow is now under nearly as many protections as Grimmauld Place, including the Fidelius Charm, as I'm sure you noticed last night. It's also Unplottable and it appears as nothing more than a copse of trees to Muggles. There are Anti-Apparition wards around the entire area as well. Secondly, I seriously doubted that you wanted to return to Grimmauld Place, given its history. Now, I must go alert the Order. Good-bye, Harry." With that, Dumbledore, with a final smile, opened his office door and walked out.

Harry steeled himself and pulled his head out of the fire. The spinning wasn't quite as bad this time. Ron and Ginny were still there watching him, both with looks of worry on their faces, obviously waiting for news.

"I talked to Dumbledore," said Harry, and their relief was visible. "He said that he'd alert the Order immediately, and bring her here if necessary." Ron brightened up immediately at that, and Harry mentally rolled his eyes.

The room suddenly tilted around him and he stumbled slightly, but recovered himself before falling on his face. Ginny and Ron immediately regained their concerned expressions.

"I reckon you'd better lay down for a bit, mate," said Ron, frowning. "Those...whatever-they-ares always seem to take it out of you."

Harry nodded. A nap was sounding better and better, and with Ron's help, he climbed the seven flights of stairs to the top of the house, and collapsed gratefully on the bed he'd gotten out of only an hour ago.

"I'll tell Mum you're not feeling well if she asks," said Ron, as he headed back downstairs, and Harry thanked him, not desiring the fuss Mrs. Weasley would make if she knew his mind had been attacked by Voldemort again.

The door clicked shut, and Harry took off his glasses, closed his eyes, and fell asleep.

***

The room was dark when Harry opened his eyes. For a brief second, he was confused as to where he was, but then Ron snored and everything came back. A surge of adrenaline flowed into him, and he sat up quickly in bed. _Did they get Hermione out of Rome? Is she safe?_ Voldemort's orders to Malfoy had been quite ominous. And what if he'd realized that Harry had heard what he'd said to Malfoy? Had Voldemort called Malfoy back to give him new instructions after Harry had been pushed from his mind? Harry was all set to jump out of bed and Floo Dumbledore again when he heard muffled voices coming from downstairs.

Treading as silently as he could, he went over to the door, which was slightly ajar, allowing some light from the hallway to spill into the room in a narrow golden stripe. He eased open the door as silently as he could, reminding himself that it usually creaked if he opened it more than about a foot and a half. The voices continued, but they must have been all the way on the first floor, because Harry still couldn't make out what they were saying. He started to creep down the stairs, careful to avoid the creaky fifth step from the top.

_Bong!_

Harry jumped and nearly toppled the rest of the way down as the clock struck the hour. A second peal followed, then it fell silent. _Two in the morning_, he thought. _What the bloody hell is going on at two in the morning?_ He reached the bottom of the stairs and was finally able to make sense of the words that had been echoing up the staircase.

"...barely got her out in time," said a female voice; Harry supposed it must belong to Tonks.

"If it hadn't been for Harry's warning, they would have abducted her." No question about it, that was Dumbledore. At his words, Harry felt a sudden chill run down his spine. So Voldemort had gone after Hermione after all.

"We took her parents to St. Mungo's," came Tonks's voice again. "It was the safest place for Mr. Granger to be treated."

Without waiting to hear any more, Harry walked into the kitchen. Dumbledore, Tonks, and Lupin were standing, Tonks and Lupin looking as though they had just finished a report. To his horror, he saw that Hermione was in Dumbledore's arms, clearly unconscious.

"Harry!" said Tonks in surprise.

"What did they do to her? Why is she knocked out?" he demanded. Why did everyone close to him have to get hurt?

"She's just been Stunned," said Lupin in a calming sort of way. "She got clipped with a Stunner shortly before we got out of there. But what in the name of Merlin are you doing awake? It's two in the morning."

"I've been asleep all day," said Harry impatiently. "The vision wiped me out. What happened in Rome? Why is Mr. Granger in St. Mungo's?"

"Mr. Granger suffered an injury from a near miss with a Blasting Curse," said Tonks. "Mrs. Granger went with him, and Bill's meeting them there."

Harry felt a surge of relief. Hermione and her parents, if perhaps slightly battered, were safe.

"You did admirably," said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling. "You came right to me, and undoubtedly saved Miss Granger and her family.

Harry looked at Tonks and Lupin. They looked tired, and there were scorch marks on their robes. "What happened down there, anyway?" he asked. They exchanged a look, and then they both shrugged nearly imperceptibly.

"Well, as soon as we got word from Professor Dumbledore," began Lupin, "Tonks, Kingsley, and I all Portkeyed down to Rome and sent a quick owl to Hermione that we were there, and explained the situation. We met up with her and her parents near the Coliseum and kept an eye on them as subtly as we could. Moody loaned us his Invisibility Cloak, which helped. We tried not to intrude on anything. A couple times, Kingsley thought he saw Lucius Malfoy, so we were on our guard."

"Nothing happened until we got back to their hotel," Tonks continued. "We got a room right next to theirs, and took turns standing guard outside their door under the cloak. The font desk lady gave us some weird looks when we said we just wanted it for the night."

"Then, about half an hour ago," said Lupin, I was standing guard, when Ian Mulciber Apparated nearly on top of me, followed by Malfoy and a third Death Eater, I think his name was Avery." He smirked. "Needless to say, I was a bit surprised, but I managed to restrain myself and get behind them without incident. I wasn't sure if I would be able to take all three by myself; Lucius Malfoy is a very dangerous man. I hoped that Tonks and Kingsley had heard their Apparition, but I wasn't sure."

"We did hear them," said Tonks. "As soon as we heard them, Kingsley had a shifty out the peephole, and whispered that there were three Death Eaters, including Lucius Malfoy, outside the Grangers' room. We had no way of knowing whether they had reinforcements, or whether Remus was waiting to strike, but we couldn't just leave them there to do their dirty work, obviously. But before either of us could do anything..." She gave Lupin a half-exasperated, half-impressed look. "Remus decided to take matters into his own hands."

"Like I said, I had moved around behind the three of them. I managed to Stun Mulciber, but almost as soon as I cast the spell, Malfoy whirled around and Summoned my cloak, leaving me exposed."

"Remus's Stunner must have been silent," said Tonks, "but we saw the red flash, and then saw Malfoy Summon the cloak. Kingsley counted to three, and then we busted down the door with a Reductor Curse—"

"Just barely missing me," Lupin interjected dryly.

"—and came out fighting," said Tonks, ignoring the interruption. "We knocked out one of them, I guess it was Avery, but Malfoy got up a Shield Charm really quick. Remus was about to join in when Hermione burst out of her room, wand blazing."

Harry felt his jaw drop. "You're having me on," he said, utterly flabbergasted. Hermione had joined in? That wasn't like her at all. He and Ron had been the quick-to-jump-in duelers in the D.A. Hermione could certainly hold her own in a duel, but she was the last person in the world he'd expect to rush out blindly into a serious wandfight.

"She took all of us quite by surprise," said Lupin with a slight hint of amusement in his voice. "But Malfoy managed to recover right quick, and he Stunned her. He was about to grab her and Disapparate, but one of Kingsley's Impedimentas got through and froze him, and we grabbed her up and ducked into her hotel room."

"Malfoy followed us in after the jinx wore off," said Tonks. "Right before we Disapparated, he burst in and shot a Blasting Curse at us. It missed and blew up the nightstand, but Mr. Granger got a side full of splinters. We were gone, and we landed right outside the Burrow, where we split up. Kingsley took Mr. and Mrs. Granger to St. Mungo's, and then headed over to their home to pick up Hermione's things and bring them along. He should be here shortly."

"I think we should wake Miss Granger up, and assure her that everything is fine," said Dumbledore, heading into the parlor and laying her down on a couch. Harry followed, and saw the headmaster take out his wand, point it at her, and murmur, "_Ennervate_."

Hermione blinked and sat up, looking like she was feeling a little woozy. "What happened?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly. Then she tensed up as she realized she was at the Burrow. "Is everyone okay?" she asked, her voice louder and higher pitched. "The last thing I remember is Malfoy Stunning me. Are my parents safe?"

"They're fine, Miss Granger," said Dumbledore reassuringly. "Your father took a few splinters from an exploding nightstand, but is presently at St. Mungo's, and, I'm sure, is well on his way to a full recovery. Your mother is unharmed, and went with him, after Remus assured her that you would be well. Kingsley has gone to your home to retrieve your belongings and bring them to you here." There was a sudden thud from the kitchen, and then the loud hissing yowl of a monumentally unhappy cat. "I believe that's him now," said Dumbledore. "Though I fear he may need my assistance. Your cat, Miss Granger, seemed most displeased with the whole evening. Good night to both of you."

"Okay," said Hermione, still sounding a little shaky. She watched Dumbledore leave, then turned to Harry. "Harry! Professor Lupin told me you'd had a vision and that that was why they were down in Rome." She got off the couch and gave him a squeeze, leaving him slightly winded. "Thanks."

Harry shrugged uncomfortably. "I just wish it hadn't happened at all."

Hermione looked severely at him. "Harry, I know that you think it's your fault, but you mustn't blame yourself for everything. I'm a Muggle-born, remember?"

"Voldemort wouldn't have sent three Death Eaters, including Malfoy, all the way down to Rome if it wasn't for me," he said mulishly, and Hermione seemed, for once, to be lacking a response.

"Listen," she said at length. "Let's talk about this tomorrow. I'm exhausted."

"Yeah, okay," said Harry. "G'night, Hermione. Sorry to snap at you like that, but I'm just really sick of all this, you know?"

Hermione looked sympathetic. "I know. Good night, Harry," she said, then headed upstairs to Ginny's room.

A stream of curses came from the kitchen, followed by a second yowl, and Harry grinned in spite of himself. "Bloody cat!" he heard Kingsley swear. Then Crookshanks came tearing through the parlor and up the stairs, following Hermione's path. He followed the cat up the stairs, but continued up to Ron's room, where he flopped back down on his bed. Harry was sure that he wouldn't be able to sleep any more, but he was wrong, as he drifted off about half an hour later.


	4. Chapter 4

IV.

The Prophecy Revealed

Hermione's premature arrival at the Burrow forced Harry to come to a much more rapid decision on how and when to tell her and Ron about the prophecy. He'd expected, at the least, another fortnight before having to go through with it, but now Harry's conscience was howling at him to tell them immediately, or at least as soon as possible.

That moment came three days after Hermione's nocturnal arrival. The three of them were by themselves in the parlor of the Burrow. Mrs. Weasley was out looking for more Floo powder in Diagon Alley, and Ginny was nowhere to be seen. Ron had mentioned that she had a small garden out back, and Harry figured she was probably working in it.

Harry and Hermione were playing chess, while Ron looked on. He was a rather trying spectator, as he kept groaning whenever they made a bad move, or occasionally breaking their concentration by asking them if they really wanted to do that.

After Ron had clucked his tongue at Harry for the fourth time (Harry had lost his queen to Hermione's knight), Harry decided that now was as good a time as any to tell them. Besides, Hermione may not have been as good as Ron at chess, but she was still better than Harry, and even as he watched, his one remaining rook fell to the same knight that had knocked down his queen and thrown her with such force that she'd overshot the table and hit the floor. Ron sighed loudly and shook his head. "Harry," he said sadly, "you can do some amazing things on a broomstick, but mate, you just can't play chess."

"I think I've lost this game," Harry agreed ruefully, surveying the carnage. Only his king, a lonely-looking knight and four of his pawns remained on the board, while Hermione had only lost two pawns and a bishop. The floor around the board was scattered with his white chess pieces.

"I've got winner, then, " said Ron, and he made to clear the board, but Harry stopped him.

"Before you do, I've got something to tell you both," he said. "It's really important."

"Of course, Harry," said Hermione, looking both apprehensive and curious.

"What is it, mate?" asked Ron.

He took a deep breath and steeled himself. "It's about the prophecy that Malfoy and his gang were trying to retrieve in the Department of Mysteries last month."

Hermione's eyes went wide, and she looked like she was restraining herself from saying something. Ron just looked confused.

"The one with your name on it?" he asked. Harry nodded.

"Yeah."

"But it broke," said Ron. "Nobody heard what it said."

"Dumbledore did," said Harry. "Remember the initials? S.P.T.? A.P.W.B.D.? Sybil Trelawney." At this, Hermione's eyes widened even further. "Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore."

"That's a bugger of a name," said Ron.

"Is it about you and Voldemort?" asked Hermione, and then before he could answer, she said, "Oh, what a silly question. Who else would the Dark Lord refer to?"

"Yeah, it is," said Harry.

"What did it say?" asked Hermione, her voice practically a whisper. Her eyes were wide and fearful.

Harry closed his eyes and began to recite. "_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches....Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies...and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not...and either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives....The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies._" He had no trouble repeating it; the words of Trelawney's prophecy were seared forever into his brain.

The silence was deafening.

Finally Hermione spoke. "Neither can live while the other survives? So you have to kill him?" Harry nodded. "Oh, I was afraid of this... after the way he was hounding you all last year, and then what Malfoy said... Oh, Harry, I'm so sorry."

Ron just looked thunderstruck. "Oh, Merlin, Harry. Wow." He was obviously at a loss for words.

"But we'll stick with you all the way, right, Ron?" asked Hermione.

"Of course we will," he replied, looking slightly put out that she even had to ask. "You know we will, right, mate?"

Harry was too moved to speak. He could tell that both of them were frightened, for themselves and him, but they were pushing it aside to try to reassure him. "I do," he said finally. "Thanks, I wasn't sure if..."

"Don't be a prat, Harry," Ron interrupted. "When have we ever left you to do something by yourself, if we could help it?"

"Dumbledore told me some other stuff before he brought me here the other night," said Harry, then paused. Should he tell them about Dumbledore's revelations the other night in the Forbidden Forest? The headmaster hadn't said anything about whether or not to tell them, but Harry decided that if they were going to be following him anyway, they might as well know everything. As Mrs. Figg would have said, they may as well be hanged for a dragon as an egg. "Do you guys know what happened that night that Voldemort tried to kill me?"

They both shook their heads. "All that anyone ever knew was that the spell somehow backfired," said Ron. "Nobody ever knew what caused it. I didn't even know what the spell was until that nutter Crouch told us fourth year."

"Have you ever wondered why it didn't kill him?" asked Harry. "I mean, Voldemort cast the Killing Curse on me, and it rebounded onto him. Why didn't he die?"

"Now that you mention it, that is odd," said Hermione, her earlier fear for Harry seeming to subside as she considered the question.

"Dumbledore has a theory," said Harry. "According to him if you kill someone, you can use a spell to entrap their soul in your wand and then later bind it to your own soul, so that it takes dies instead of you. He thinks that's what Voldemort did."

Ron and Hermione looked sickened. "Does...does that mean that your parents..." Hermione began uncertainly.

"No, Dumbledore said that the Priori Incantatem effect..."

"The what?" interrupted Ron.

"My wand and his both have a feather from Fawkes in them," said Harry. "So they sort of connected when we dueled in the graveyard, and mine forced Voldemort's to repeat its spells. But anyway, Dumbledore said that when that happened, and my parents came out of the wand, that would release their souls if they were trapped. According to him, since his body was destroyed right after he killed my parents, he wouldn't have had time to do the binding ritual, and so he was mortal that night in the graveyard."

"But how do you get rid of that protection?" asked Hermione. "I mean, besides just using the Killing Curse, because that would get him back to where he started."

"I don't know, and neither does Dumbledore," said Harry. "He's also going to be giving me private lessons this year."

Both Ron and Hermione looked impressed at that. "What kind of stuff is he going to be teaching you?" asked Ron.

"Well, he already started trying to teach me Occlumency, and I learned more from him in half an hour than I did from Snape all last year."

"Yeah, it probably helps that Dumbledore doesn't despise you, your pets, your friends, and the ground you walk on," said Ron.

"And..." He paused. Should he tell them about the failed _Avada Kedavra_ that he'd cast at Dumbledore's urging? It was something he'd just as soon forget about. But he'd already decided to tell them everything. "Well, he told me to cast _Avada Kedavra_..."

Hermione gasped. "And did you?" she whispered, the look of fear in her eyes more pronounced than ever.

"No, I couldn't do it," said Harry. "And Dumbledore says that he can't either. It made me feel sick and weak all over, just trying to cast it." He shuddered.

"Why couldn't you cast it, mate?" asked Ron, who obviously had not taken the news nearly as badly as Hermione had.

"I dunno," said Harry. "Dumbledore says you really need to hate someone to be able to cast an Unforgivable. I tried to use the Cruciatus Curse on Bellatrix Lestrange after...you know..." He looked away for a second, forcing down the lump in his throat. "Well, anyway, it didn't work."

Ron and Hermione were sitting on a sofa now, both of them looking shocked at Harry.

"What? It didn't work! She said that righteous anger alone couldn't power the curse. She fell down for a second, and then got right back up!"

"Mate, you cast an Unforgivable by yourself? On someone else?" Ron was looking a little pale now. "Did anyone see you do it?" Hermione just looked too shocked for words.

"Just Bellatrix, and she's not likely to turn me in, is she?"

"No, but...Merlin, Harry!" exclaimed Hermione. "It's just that...my God, all these things that you have hanging over your head! How do you deal with it?"

Harry shrugged. "I dunno. I mean, I've always known that Voldemort was after me. Now I know why. What am I going to do, go all to pieces? When have you ever known me to do that?"

"I know, but still..."

"But still what? I mean, even if I didn't know about the prophecy, d'you think I'd just sit around and watch people die?" He heard his voice start to rise, and desperately tried to rein in his temper.

"No, of course not," said Ron in a calming sort of way. "We know you better than that. It's just a big load that we've had dropped on us. Just need a little time to adjust, mate, that's all." Hermione nodded in agreement.

"We're not going to leave you, Harry, I'm just a little...surprised by you."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Surprised at _me_?"

"Surprised _by _you, Harry. I mean, let's face it, you weren't, well, very _nice_ last year."

"You mean I was a right git to both of you," he said, smiling slightly.

"Well, you were!" said Hermione, now turning slightly pink. "And now you seem so calm and collected about quite literally having the weight of the world on your shoulders!" She shook her head. "I guess maybe you've just grown up a little."

"Yeah, well, having the weight of the world on your shoulders and seeing your godfather murdered before your eyes will do that to you," said Harry, trying and failing to suppress the bitterness in his voice. Ron and Hermione visibly braced themselves a bit, but he held back his temper. "Sorry, didn't mean to snap. I'm not angry at you guys," he added, since they still looked a little apprehensive. "I just want it to end, and I'm willing to do whatever it takes to end it."

Just then, Ginny poked her head into the room. "There's three owls in the kitchen," she said. "And they have very official-looking envelopes tied to their legs."

Harry's stomach fell. He looked over to Ron and Hermione. Hermione had gone as white as a sheet, while Ron was looking more serious than Harry had ever seen him. "Well, I guess we should go open them," he said after a moment's silence, purposefully striding towards the kitchen. Hermione followed him after a brief hesitation, and Harry brought up the rear. As he walked past Ginny, he noticed she was looking at him oddly, and she looked upset somehow.

"Are you all right?" he whispered to her.

"I'm fine," she said, smiling. Harry thought it looked forced, but he didn't press the issue, and continued into the kitchen.

There were indeed three owls in the kitchen. They ruffled their feathers importantly, and hooted in a way, that to Harry's ear, sounded quite pompous. Attached to their legs were three lime-green envelopes. Harry, feeling oddly numb, untied his from the owl's leg and opened it. Hermione and Ron watched him anxiously, their envelopes unopened in their hands.

**Ordinary Wizarding Level Results for **

_**Harry James Potter**_

_**Grading Key: T=Troll, D=Dreadful, P=Poor, A=Acceptable, E=Exceeds Expectations, O=Outstanding**_

_**Total OWLs: 7**_

_**Astronomy: A**_

_**Care of Magical Creatures: O**_

_**Charms: E**_

_**Defense Against the Dark Arts: O**_

_**Divination: D**_

_**Herbology: E**_

_**History of Magic: D**_

_**Potions: O**_

_**Transfiguration: E**_

Harry grinned widely. So what if he'd failed Divination and History? They certainly weren't required for him to be an Auror. And an O in Potions! Snape would be furious!

"All right, Harry?" asked Ron.

Wordlessly, Harry handed him his grades.

"Wicked!" said Ron, then handed the grade sheet to Hermione while he tore open his own.

"Harry, this is really good!" exclaimed Hermione. She gave him a quick hug and handed his grades back to him, then followed Ron's example and tore open her own.

"Wicked!" breathed Ron a second time. He gave his grade sheet to Harry.

**Ordinary Wizarding Level Results for **

_**Ronald Bilius Weasley**_

_**Grading Key: T=Troll, D=Dreadful, P=Poor, A=Acceptable, E=Exceeds Expectations, O=Outstanding**_

_**Total OWLs: 8**_

_**Astronomy: A**_

_**Care of Magical Creatures: E**_

_**Charms: E**_

_**Defense Against the Dark Arts: O**_

_**Divination: P**_

_**Herbology: E**_

_**History of Magic: A**_

_**Potions: E**_

_**Transfiguration: E**_

__Harry was flabbergasted. Ron had only managed one O, but he'd actually gotten more OWLs than Harry had, since he hadn't failed History of Magic. Of course, he hadn't had his mind attacked by Voldemort halfway through the exam, either.

Hermione snatched Ron's grades from Harry's hand and put hers down on the table, where Harry looked at them.

**Ordinary Wizarding Level Results for **

_**Hermione Jane Granger**_

_**Grading Key: T=Troll, D=Dreadful, P=Poor, A=Acceptable, E=Exceeds Expectations, O=Outstanding**_

_**Total OWLs: 10**_

_**Ancient Runes: E**_

_**Arithmancy: O**_

_**Astronomy: O**_

_**Care of Magical Creatures: O**_

_**Charms: O**_

_**Defense Against the Dark Arts: E**_

_**Herbology: O**_

_**History of Magic: O**_

_**Potions: O**_

_**Transfiguration: O**_

"Bloody hell!" he gasped. Hermione had gotten a solid ten OWLs, with nothing less than the two E's in Ancient Runes (he vaguely remembered her fretting over a mistranslation after her exam), and, to his surprise, in Defense Against the Dark Arts. He turned to her. "Hermione, this is incredible."

She was looking very pleased. "Thanks, Harry! I just wish I'd done better on Defense." She took back her grades, and exchanged them for Ron's, then let out a squeal, and gave Ron a hug and a kiss on the cheek. "Ron—these are great! Well done!"

Ron went beet red, but looked very pleased with himself. "Well, that's that, then." He was grinning, obviously quite chuffed at his exam results.

Ginny walked in just then. "Well?" she asked. "How'd you do?"

"Seven," said Harry. "With three O's!" He was still unable to believe that he'd pulled an O in Potions.

"Eight!" Ron crowed, still grinning like a hyena. "I even got an O! In Defense!" He turned to Harry. "I suppose that's all thanks to you, mate, eh?" He clapped Harry jovially on the shoulder.

"What about you, Hermione?" asked Ginny, rolling her eyes at Ron's elation.

"Ten," she replied softly.

"With eight O's and two E's," Ron added when it became obvious that Hermione wasn't going to volunteer that information. She turned pink.

"Wow," said Ginny, obviously impressed. She went over to the table and picked up Ron's grades, and scanned them. "Mum's going to be over the moon," she said. Then she turned to Ron. "Thanks a_ lot _for raising the bar, Ron! Oh, what did you get your O's in, Harry, besides Defense, I mean."

"How'd you know that I got an O in Defense?" asked Harry. Then he realized that it was a rather stupid question.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Come on, Harry. You _formed _the D.A. and taught us everything we know about Defense. If you were going to get an O in any subject, it would be Defense. But what other classes _did _you get an O in?"

"Care of Magical Creatures and Potions," he said.

"_Potions?_" Ginny said incredulously. Then she laughed. "Snape will be absolutely appalled!"

"Don't I know it," he grinned back. "But I got into all the classes that I need to become an Auror!"

"Oh, bugger," said Ron, as some of his good cheer evaporated. "That's right. Snape doesn't take E's for N.E.W.T. Potions."

"Don't worry about it, Ron," Hermione said bracingly. "You can still sit the N.E.W.T. exam even if you don't take the class. Harry and I can help you with the material as well, right, Harry?"

"Of course, mate," said Harry. "It'll be fine. Besides, at least you don't have to tolerate the greasy git for another two years."

"That's true," said Ron, brightening up again. "But what about making the potions? I mean, knowing the theory and the procedure is fine, but I won't be able to actually make them to practice, will I?"

"Three words, Ron," said Harry, grinning. "Room of Requirement."

"Wicked!" said Ron. "So you mean it?" he asked. "You'll really teach me?"

"I don't know how good I'll be at teaching Potions, but I'll try," said Harry.

"And I _will _teach you," said Hermione, "that is, if you're willing to do the work?" She raised her eyebrows at Ron.

"I am!" he said earnestly. "I'll pick up a copy of...what are the N.E.W.T. Potions books, anyway?"

Harry pulled the booklist out of the envelope that his O.W.L.s had come in. "Er... _Advanced Potion Theory_, _The Comprehensive Guide to Poisons and Their Antidotes_,and...huh? I didn't know there was another edition of _Moste Potente Potions_..."

"Right," said Ron. "So, let's see. We have the booklist, and the course selection sheet. So we just fill in what ones we want to take, and then—"

He was cut off by the loud crack of Apparition outside the Burrow, where the wards stopped. A moment later, Remus Lupin came hurriedly into the kitchen. He looked even more woebegone than normal. There was a fresh cut above his left eyebrow, a long gash on his cheek still leaking a little blood, and burn marks on his already tattered cloak. "There was an attack on Diagon Alley" he said without preamble.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione stood up immediately. "Death Eaters?" asked Harry. Lupin nodded. The three of them drew their wands.

"Wait just a second," Lupin began. "I'm not about to take three students to battle Death Eaters. The fight's over, anyway. I'm here to warn you."

"Warn us?" asked Harry, rather irritated that, after the Department of Mysteries, he was _still _being told to sit tight and wait like a good little boy.

"Warn you," confirmed Lupin. "Professor Snape told us that each Death Eater is equipped with a Portkey that will take them right to Voldemort if they should touch you. This attack was nothing more than a way to draw you out."

"But what about Mrs. Weasley?" asked Harry. "She went to the Alley today!"

Lupin passed his hand over his face. "She took cover in Fred and George's store, along with several other bystanders. But the Alley itself was a battlefield. The Death Eaters came charging out of Knockturn Alley, and they took about half the street before the Aurors arrived. When I left, we were closing in on the last one."

A second crack of Apparition caused the four of them, as well as Ginny, to spin towards the kitchen door with their wands drawn.

Tonks walked in, then stopped dead as she noticed that there were five wands with five grim faces behind them, all pointed directly at her. "Wotcher!" she said, slighly hesitantly.

As soon as they recognized her (the neon green color of her hair helped), they lowered their wands. "What's happening?" asked Lupin.

"They've withdrawn," said Tonks excitedly. Harry noticed that she had a spectacular-looking black eye, and several cuts across her cheeks. "Two of them were killed, and we captured two more." She snorted derisively. "They were pathetic. Barely out of school by the looks of them. All the really dangerous ones left long before it was over."

"What about Mum?" asked Ron nervously.

"Molly? She's fine," Tonks said airily. "Was in a bit of a rage, actually. One of the Death Eaters clipped Bill with a Severing Curse and took a chunk out of his arm." Ginny blanched at that. Tonks must have noticed, because she added quickly, "But he's not bad. Just a flesh wound. Anyway, Molly hit the idiot with a Bludgeoning Hex right to the gut. Last I saw him, he was lying in front of Fortescue's, puking his guts out. When he started swearing at her, she used _Scourgify to _wash out his mouth." She chuckled. "He was one of the two we captured. Your mum fixed Bill right up."

"What about our side?" asked Harry. "Was the Order there?"

"Of course the Order was there, Harry. Why else d'you think Bill was there? He's a Curse Breaker. I'll tell you, it was quite a bother trying to hide the fact that Kingsley and I and a couple of other Aurors were in the Order," replied Tonks. "But I don't think anyone suspected anything. They were too busy dodging hexes."

"But did anyone get hurt?" he persisted.

"Besides Bill? Well, Remus and I obviously have a few scratches, and a piece of rock from a Blasting Curse gave me this lovely shiner. Moody's wooden leg got cut off an inch below the top." To Harry's astonishment, she grinned. "He was so angry! Started throwing hexes even faster after that, and added some pretty hilarious insults to boot. But other than that, and a couple Aurors getting hit with Bludgeoners, no one on our side was seriously hurt or killed."

Harry grinned at Moody's response to the loss of his peg leg. Then he felt a twinge of pain across his scar, and instinctively pressed his hand against his forehead. At the same time, he felt a surge of rage that was not his own.

He looked up to see everyone staring at him apprehensively. "It's nothing," he said. "I think Voldemort's just found out about the results of his attack. He's not pleased."

"That's not a surprise," said Lupin. "I think he overestimated the response time of the Aurors, and underestimated how green his new recruits were. He'll do it again, though, and he'll do it better." He shuddered. "If there's one thing I remember from the first war, it's that Voldemort is remarkably good at adapting to new situations and learning from his mistakes. The next batch of Death Eaters will most likely be far more dangerous."

"I've got to get back to Diagon Alley," said Tonks. "They're going to want all hands on deck for the cleanup and investigation."

"I'll stay here until Molly gets back," said Lupin,"and then I'll meet you at Headquarters. Oh! That reminds me!" He pulled an official looking bit of parchment from somewhere inside his cloak, waving to Tonks as she walked out and Disapparated. "I need to talk to you alone for a moment, Harry."

Harry nodded, and followed Lupin back into the parlor, and stared at him when he closed the door and cast an Impervious Charm and a Silencing Charm on the door. "What's going on, Professor?" he asked.

"Harry, this is about Sirius's will," he said gently, and Harry felt his stomach clench a little. "He made me executor and I just wanted you to know what he left you." He unfolded the official-looking parchment. "Let's see: he's left Grimmauld Place to you, a healthy portion of his vault in Gringotts, and several possessions including a Pensieve, a box of assorted personal effects, a flying motorcycle, and..." Lupin rummaged in his cloak for a moment, and pulled out a small box. "This." He handed the box to Harry, who raised an eyebrow. "Go on, Harry. I think I know what that is."

Harry opened the box. Inside was a golden ring with a shining red stone. On either side of the stone was engraved a rampant lion, and all around the stone and the band of the ring was what appeared to be runic script. "What's this?" he asked, taking the ring out of the box and holding it up so the stone caught the sunlight from the window. It sparkled in the light, and cast red dots all over the walls.

"That, I believe, is your father's Auror ring."

"Auror ring?"

Lupin sat down on the sofa, and motioned for Harry to do the same. "All Aurors have a ring that will immediately identify them as an Auror. The shape of the template is universal, but beyond that, each ring is completely unique. You'll notice that James picked his house colors for the ring, as well as had two lions engraved on it." He smiled. "Gryffindor through and through."

"What do the runes say?"All over the surface of the ring were finely engraved symbols which clearly held some sort of meaning. Harry, though, couldn't figure out what they meant for the life of him.

"Well, I never studied Ancient Runes at Hogwarts. My strong point was always Transfiguration and Defense. But I'll bet your father placed some spells on this ring. I'm not sure what they would be, but doesn't Hermione study Ancient Runes?"

"Yeah, she does!" said Harry, brightening. "I'll ask her!"

"Good idea. Now, do you have any questions? This list is the full inventory of what Sirius left you, and there are a couple more items on it, but I think I've covered all the important ones."

"No questions," said Harry, and then he had a thought. "Well, one question. What am I supposed to do with Grimmauld Place? And what about Kreacher?"

"Well, Dumbledore wanted me to ask you if the Order could continue using it as Headquarters..."

"Yeah, go ahead," said Harry, who didn't want to set another foot inside its grim walls. "But what about Kreacher?"

"He's dead," said Lupin shortly. "He died shortly after he betrayed Sirius. We're not entirely sure how it happened, but he's definitely dead."

"Good," Harry said coldly. Lupin raised his eyebrows, but obviously decided not to comment.

"There's one other thing, Harry," he said quietly. "I know that the Dursleys are your legal guardians, but Sirius wanted me to at least keep an eye on you. I won't pretend that I can take his place, but if you ever need anything, I'd be honored to help the son and godson of my two best friends." He smiled in a sad sort of way.

Harry looked at Lupin and returned the smile. "Thanks, Professor."

"Harry, I haven't been your professor for two years, and it's very unlikely that I'll be your professor again. Call me Remus."

"Okay...Remus." He grinned uncertainly, but Lupin just grinned back, then clapped Harry on the shoulder.

"Let's join everyone else. I think Molly will be back soon, and then I really need to be on my way. And Harry, I meant what I said. Drop me a letter any time you need to talk."

They walked back into the kitchen together, and though the weight of Sirius's death was still on his shoulders, it was lighter than it had ever been.


	5. Chapter 5

V.

The Auror Ring

Harry stowed his father's ring in his pocket; he didn't want to share it with anyone yet, not before he found out more about it. He did tell Ron and Hermione about being left Grimmauld Place, however, as Ginny was nowhere to be seen.

"Where'd Ginny run off to?" he asked them when he noticed this.

Ron shrugged. "Dunno. She went outside, muttering something about needing to think. She's probably working on her garden right now."

"I could use some thinking, too," said Harry, opening the back door.

Ron shrugged. "Sure thing, mate. Just be careful, eh?"

He went outside and made his way down to a small pond that the Weasleys had on their property. It had been quite a day. First, he'd told Ron and Hermione about the prophecy. Their responses had been all he'd hoped for and more. He could tell they were frightened and worried by its implications—_implications, hell, it says right in there that one of us has to die_, he though to himself with a snort—and they'd be foolish not to be, but they pushed it aside for his benefit. Again, Harry thanked whoever had decided to give Ron a push into his car that first day on the Express, and he even thanked Professor Quirrell for providing the impetus for them to become friends with Hermione.

He idly tossed a pebble into the water. Thinking about the prophecy still gave him a bit of a turn. After all, it was a huge responsibility to have his shoulders. Harry wondered if maybe it hadn't even hit him fully yet. He had to kill Tom Riddle—no, Voldemort, the most dangerous Dark Lord to have lived since Salazar Slytherin himself, probably. If Dumbledore was the most powerful wizard in the world, then Voldemort was probably second. He had to wait until Voldemort was at least the third most powerful before he could hope to vanquish him.

Besides, how on earth was Harry supposed to kill something that just refused to die? He hoped rather fervently that Dumbledore had found something out about the supposed soul shield that Voldemort had built up from his murder victims. He wondered what the rest of his private lessons with Dumbledore would be like—would Dumbledore teach him to fight the way he and Voldemort had dueled in the Ministry of Magic a few weeks ago? Even through his rage and despair, Harry had felt absolutely amazed at the way Voldemort and Dumbledore dueled. It was light years ahead of what he'd just gone through with the Death Eaters, and he wondered where the two of them had learned to fight like that. Dumbledore, particularly—the headmaster had exceptionally good reflexes, especially considering the man was about a century and a half old.

More to distract himself from these depressing thoughts of power and skill than any true curiosity, Harry pulled the box containing his father's Auror ring from his pocket and opened it again. The ruby sparkled warmly in the sunlight, and even as he looked at it, one of the lions almost seemed to move. He ran a finger over the engraved runes, trying to guess what sort of spells they represented. Harry made to put the box back in his pocket, but as he was pushing it in, the box sprang open, and the ring rolled away. Swearing, he stood up, and ran in the direction it had rolled. Fortunately, it hadn't rolled far, and had come to a stop against a rock. Feeling immensely relieved, he picked it up, and so it wouldn't roll anywhere else, stuck it on his right ring finger. For a moment, it felt too big, then, the ring warmed, and he felt it shrink to fit his finger perfectly.

Harry walked back to where he'd been sitting, and picked up the box lying on the ground. The inside was loosely covered with velvet or felt or some such material, but apparently, as it impacted the ground, some of the loose material had come away, revealing the corner of a piece of parchment. Feeling very curious and very excited, Harry pulled back the material further, and then pulled out a piece of parchment that had been folded several times. He started to unfold it, and found that there were actually two sheets of parchment. He pulled them apart and looked at the first one.

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_I have completed the spells you wanted placed on your Auror ring. The minor spells are an Automatic Sizing Charm, a modified Lumos Charm that will emit red light from the stone if you cast Lumos without a wand, and a Permanent Shield Charm that protects the ring itself from physical damage._

_Attached is a list of the more complicated spells you requested, and how each is activated. Thank you for your patronage. _

_Yours most sincerely,_

_Gwydion DeVries_

_DeVries Enchanting, Ltd._

Harry put the letter down and carefully looked the second piece of parchment over. Sure enough, it was the list of spells DeVries had put on the ring.

_Mr. Potter—_

_These are the spells I have placed on the ring at your request. If something is missing, please feel free to contact me, and I shall put it to rights immediately. _

_1. Security Charm—If someone you have not specifically authorized to do so touches the ring, they will be Stunned immediately. In order to authorize someone to touch it, simply tap it with your wand, and say "Licentium" and their name._

_2. Ward of Minor Alarm—If you activate this spell, the ring will become hot to the touch when someone with malicious intent comes within a certain vicinity of the ring. The distance at which it will detect them depends on how much malice they hold towards you._

_3. Emergency Portkey—This spell will allow you to use the ring to escape a dangerous area. Please note that this sort of spell has a limited number of uses before requiring a re-enchantment, so plan accordingly. I have allowed for five uses of the Portkey function. In order to activate it, tap it with your wand, say "Effugio" and the name of the place you wish to escape to. You can also take up to three passengers with you, but they must be touching you or the ring._

_4. Disillusionment Charm—This spell will disguise the ring so it is well nigh impossible to distinguish from the rest of your finger. If you want to hide it, tap it with your wand and say, "Occultus." To let it show again, tap it again and say, "Aperio."_

_That is all I have on the order form. Again, if you wish another spell placed on the ring, or require a re-enchantment for the Portkey spell, please don't hesitate to owl me and I'll be glad to do it._

_-Gwydion DeVries_

Harry looked at the list of spells. This was a _very _interesting looking ring, and he was quite sure Hermione would want to take a look at it, particularly the fine runic script covering the ring. Deciding to test it, Harry pulled out his wand, tapped the ring, and said, _"Occultus!" _Immediately, the ring became the same color as his skin, hiding it quite effectively, though if anyone looked closely, they would be able to see that _something _was strange about his finger. He tapped it again and said _"Aperio!_" The ring promptly resumed its normal appearance. He grinned, and put down his wand, then said, "_Lumos!_" The stone glowed red, and Harry cupped his other hand around the ring. Sure enough, there was a red glow lighting up his hand. _That should be pretty useful,_ he thought to himself. The red light was far less noticeable and less inhibitive to his night vision than the bright white light given off by the _Lumos _spell.

Harry spent a few more minutes looking over the ring. It had obviously been painstakingly made, and he suspected it may well have been the most expensive thing he'd ever owned, with the possible exception of his Firebolt. That meant Harry was going to have to be very careful with the ring. _I should probably keep it Disillusioned when I'm at school_, he thought to himself. He glanced back at the list of spells, and his eyes fell on the Emergency Portkey function.

Harry decided to test it. He stuffed the parchment and the box into his pocket, and hoping there was still at least one, preferably two charges left on the thing, he tapped it with his wand, focused his mind on the parlor of the Burrow and said "_Effugio _the Burrow's parlor!"

Instantly, the world dissolved into the swirling colors and roaring sound of Portkey travel. A short time later, he appeared in the parlor of the Burrow. Though it was a near thing, he stayed upright, and turned around to find Hermione sitting on Ron's lap, snogging him mercilessly.

Harry felt his jaw fall open, and shut it. He knew he shouldn't be surprised. He'd harbored a strong suspicion since the little episode following the Yule Ball in his fourth year about Ron's feelings for Hermione and vice-versa. Obviously, they'd finally decided to act on it. He considered for a moment, and realized that he was okay with that, but a wicked idea crept into his head, and he had to restrain himself from laughing at it.

Neither of them had noticed that Harry was in the room, so engrossed were they in what they were doing. He crept as silently as he could around the couch, ducking under the back so on the off chance that Hermione's eyes were open, she didn't see him. Then, taking a chance that they were closed, he stood up (her eyes were definitely closed, he noticed with a grin), got as close as he could to Ron's right ear, and said, loudly, "So, what's going on, mate?"

Hermione shrieked and fell rather unceremoniously off Ron's lap and onto the floor. Ron's head spun around so fast Harry was amazed he didn't get whiplash. Hermione got up off the floor, and Harry saw that both of them were the same shade of beet red. The look on their faces made him burst out laughing.

"What's so bloody funny?" Ron demanded, rather crossly.

Harry was laughing so hard that tears were leaking out of his eyes. He couldn't stop; his execution had been so perfect, and the results so hilarious that every time he tried to stop, he met Ron's eyes and promptly burst out laughing again.

"Harry!" said Hermione, her voice rather higher than usual. "We didn't expect you back for a while, and how did you get in here so silently?"

He finally calmed down enough to wipe the tears from his eyes and speak, albeit rather breathlessly. "I can see that you didn't expect me back for a while," he said, and forced down the renewed burst of laughter that surged up when he looked at Ron. "And what do you think is so bloody funny, Ron? You both look like you got caught with your hand in the cookie jar!" The laughter bubbled up again, and it was another thirty seconds before he could speak again. Finally, his sides hurting slightly, he managed to gasp out, "So how long has this been going on?"

"For about fifteen minutes," said Ron.

Harry raised his eyebrows. "I meant you and Hermione being together." He was rewarded by another blush from Ron.

"That's what I meant, Harry! When you went to talk to Professor Lupin, I sort of... you know, told Hermione that I fancied her. You know, all that talk about the prophecy and what could happen to you and stuff, and I guess I was tired of hiding it all the time, and I wanted to tell her before something bad happened."

"Are you mad, Harry?" Hermione asked anxiously. "Because we were talking about you, and we don't want you to think that we're going to forget about you. You're our best friend, and nothing will change."

"Do I look mad?" Harry said. Okay, he had been a little worried about feeling left out, but he was gratified to see that he didn't and that Ron and Hermione seemed to have realized he might have felt that way. "Besides, maybe you two will stop bickering so bloody much," he added, smiling to take the sting out of the words. "And I suppose it will make your Prefect rounds more pleasant." Harry smirked at them, and Ron's ears turned red. "But seriously, I'm happy for both of you."

"Really?" asked Hermione, still sounding slightly nervous. "Because it must come as quite a shock..."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "A shock? Oh, come on. I've suspected it for years, and I've been positive since Ron's little episode after the Yule Ball." He shook his head. "I'm not stupid, you know."

The two of them looked quite relieved at Harry's reaction, and he felt a twinge of guilt. Obviously they'd expected him to start shouting the way he had done last year. He wasn't proud of it, and he thought (or hoped) that he was past that, but he realized that he still had a temper.

"But anyway, mate," said Ron, "How'd you get in here without making any noise? One moment we were alone, and the next moment, you were there."

Harry held out his right hand. Hermione's eyes widened as she looked at the golden ring. "Oooh, Harry, is that an Auror ring?" He nodded, smiling inside. Trust Hermione to be able to identify immediately nearly anything she saw. "Is it your father's?"

He nodded again. "I guess Sirius had it, and he left it to me. Lupin was his executor, and he told me what Sirius left me." A lump formed in his throat. Sirius's death was still painful, and probably would be for a long time. "He left me Grimmauld Place, a box of personal effects, and my dad's Auror ring."

"Can I see it, Harry?" asked Hermione excitedly. He nodded, pulled it off his finger, and was about to hand it to her when he remembered the security spell.

"Whoa, hold on!" he said, jerking it away from her. She had just been about to touch it. Hermione looked hurt, and he quickly explained. "There's a security spell on it that will stun anyone not authorized to touch the ring. Hold on..." He dug in his pocket for the list of spells and looked up the security spell. Harry tapped the ring with his wand, and said "_Licentium Hermione_!" It glowed briefly blue, then faded. "There. Sorry about that."

Hermione took it, and he was about to hand her the sheet of parchment with the list of spells, when she gasped excitedly. She was tracing the finely-engraved runes with a finger. "Harry, there are some very impressive spells on this ring!"

"Yeah, it came with a list," he said, waving the parchment.

'There's a modified form of the _Lumos _spell, and I think this right here_—_" she pointed at a particular bunch of runes that looked the same as the rest of them to Harry, "_—_is a Disillusionment charm for the ring." She continued examining the ring for several minutes, then her eyes widened. "Harry! This is amazing! There's a Portkey spell on this! Somehow, it's been sustained so it can be used as a Portkey multiple times. And it's been modified so you can choose the destination."

"How d'you think I got in here so quietly?" he asked her, grinning.

She blushed, but kept examining the ring. "I think it only has a couple uses, though. Look here..." Hermione held the ring up to his face, and indicated a certain part of the runes. Those particular runes did look faded compared to the rest of them. "I think you'll have to have it re-engraved and re-enchanted when it fades out entirely. I wonder where you get that done?"

He checked the letter. "Apparently, at DeVries Enchanting, Limited."

"Can I see it, Harry?" asked Ron, who had been unusually quiet.

"Yeah, let me just authorize you... _Licentium Ron!_ There you go, mate."

He handed Ron the ring. "Wicked!" said Ron, obviously impressed with the fine workmanship. "Hey, there's a couple lions engraved on it. Wonder if they do anything."

Harry shrugged. "There was nothing on the list. Maybe they're there for decoration."

Hermione looked up from the list and letter, which she had just finished reading. "Harry," she said, quite seriously. "This is a very useful ring!"

"Yeah," he said. "I'd kinda worked that out."

"No, really! I mean, this Ward of Minor Alarm, just, wow!" Hermione continued to gush, but he tuned it out. So his father had used the Emergency Portkey at least once? He idly wondered what he'd used it to escape from. Perhaps Voldemort himself. Heck, maybe he'd already had it re-enchanted once or twice. From what Harry had heard about the Auror lifestyle, that wouldn't really surprise him.

"Anyway," Hermione was saying, "I think you should wear this Disillusioned while you're at school."

Harry tuned in in time to catch this and nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I'd already decided to do that. Of course, if I could get Malfoy to take it somehow..." He grinned. "Seeing the look on his face when he was Ennervated might be worth him touching it."

"I'm not too sure about that, mate," said Ron, shuddering at the thought of Malfoy touching an Auror's ring, particularly that of Harry's father.

"Yeah, you're probably right," said Harry resignedly. "Better that as few people as possible know about the thing." He glanced at the clock on the parlor wall. "Say, where's your mum? Lupin said that she'd be home soon."

Ron shrugged. "Maybe she decided to pick up some other things. Or maybe she stopped in at Fred and George's store to chew them out again."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "She still doesn't approve?"

"Well, I think she does deep down—I mean, they're making a good living at it, aren't they? It's just that I don't think she approves of some of their jokes." Ron shook his head. "I think maybe she got spoiled with Bill, Charlie, and Percy. Two Head Boys and a Quidditch Captain, later a Curse Breaker, a dragon tamer, and a Junior Assistant to the Minister, or whatever the hell Percy's job title is. Git," he added, as an afterthought. "Still won't talk to us."

Harry lowered his voice. "Does she know about my donation?"

"Blimey, no!" said Ron, looking shocked at the very idea. "Of course, _you're_ the one who gave it to them, so I reckon she wouldn't be too hard on you. No, Fred and George wouldn't tell her if their lives depended on it. Well," he amended, "maybe then, but otherwise they wouldn't."

"Honestly, I think your mother's being a bit unfair," said Hermione. "I mean, Fred and George are obviously brilliant, look at some of the things they've made. But I really can't blame her for being mad at them for throwing their exams. The things they're putting together require considerable skill in Potions, Herbology, Transfiguration, and Charms, and weren't they both taking N.E.W.T. Defense Against the Dark Arts?"

Ron rolled his eyes. "They're making a living, aren't they? I heard them talking the other day. They're going to rent the entire building that their store is in, and turn part of it into an apartment for the two of them."

"Really?" asked Harry. "Cool! So they're moving out?"

"Well, they've pretty much moved out, anyway," said Ron. "All they do here anymore is sleep. And they don't even do much of that. Their bedroom is pretty much a warehouse now. They store all their experimental stuff in there, so if I were you, I wouldn't go poking around in any boxes. Charlie stopped by a couple weeks ago, went in there, and came out with a duck's bill that no one could remove. Had to take him to St. Mungo's." He paused for a second, then continued. "Actually, some of the stuff they've made is really impressive. They've started taking custom orders for certain clients."

"Certain clients?" asked Harry.

"The Order, for one," replied Ron. Hermione's jaw fell open, and Harry felt his do the same. "No, really!" he said, looking at their surprised faces. "I mean, some of those jokes could be useful for our side—the antidote to the Nosebleed Nougat will stop all severe bleeding for a couple hours, and they've taken a page from Neville's plant thing—"

"_Mimbulus mimbletonia_," supplied Hermione.

"—yeah, that thing," continued Ron. "They thought up this small thing about the size of a Snitch that explodes and covers everything around it with Stinksap!"

Harry was flabbergasted, and Hermione looked very impressed in spite of herself. He hadn't realized just how brilliant the twins were, but from what Hermione had said earlier, he had no trouble believing that they had indeed purposely failed their exams. "Do you remember what their O.W.L. grades were?" he asked.

Ron scrunched up his face in thought. "Yeah, they both got E's in Defense Against the Dark Arts. George got an O in Potions and Herbology, and Fred got an O in Charms and Transfiguration." Then comprehension dawned on his face. "It was brilliant!" he enthused. "They did as little work as possible, and still got everything they needed!"

Hermione smiled, despite her disapproval of _anyone _purposely failing an exam. "That is pretty impressive," she admitted. "An O in Potions and Transfiguration? Those are probably the hardest ones apart from Arithmancy."

Ron rolled his eyes again and was obviously about to say something sarcastic when Mrs. Weasley called them in from the kitchen. "Ronald! Harry! Hermione! Ginny said that you'd gotten your O.W.L. grades!"

Dutifully, they trooped into the kitchen. Ron showed his first, and Mrs. Weasley gaped for a second, then gave him a huge hug. "Oh, Ronald! Eight O.W.L.'s! I'm _so _proud of you! And an "O" on your Defense Against the Dark Arts exam!"

"Mum..." Ron gasped. "Get a grip, please!"

She released him, and patted him on the cheek fondly. "I'm so proud of you, dear! You got more than Fred and George put together! Wait until I tell them!"

Ron winced. "Mum, please. Maybe it'd be better if they don't know." She hadn't heard him, being too busy turning to Harry.

"What about you, dear? How did you do?"

Without a word, Harry pulled his grades out of his pocket and handed his to Mrs. Weasley. She looked them over, and turned to him, beaming. "Wonderful, dear! Seven O.W.L.s! And three O's!" She ruffled his hair, making it even messier than usual, then hugged him.

"And you, Hermione?" she asked, and Hermione, slightly pink in the face, handed Mrs. Weasley her grades.

This was the first time Harry had ever seen Mrs. Weasley speechless. Her mouth fell open slightly, and her eyes widened. After staring at Hermione's practically perfect grades for nearly a minute, she finally found her voice, and said, "Well done, Hermione, well done!" She crushed the three of them together in her arms one last time. "I'm so proud of all three of you!" Then she released them and went looking for Errol, the Weasley family owl (who more often than not more resembled a flying feather duster) to send Mr. Weasley a note.

As soon as Harry was sure that she was out of earshot, he smirked at Ron and Hermione. "I notice you two forgot to mention something to her. Namely, that you're now a couple." To Harry's amusement, Ron looked quite discomfited, but Hermione appeared unruffled.

"Honestly, Harry," she said, sounding a bit stern, "We've been a couple for what? A little over half an hour?"

"One shock at a time, Harry," said Ron, finding his voice. "I mean, our grades today already pushed the limits. She went absolutely speechless when she saw Hermione's grades." He shook his head disbelievingly. "I think that's the first time I've ever seen Mum at a loss for words. But forget about grades and me and Hermione. What about you, Harry? Are you sure you're okay with this thing?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "I told you guys before, I have no problem with it. You're my two best friends, why wouldn't I want you to be happy?"

"I know, Harry," said Ron. "I know. I'm not talking about Hermione and I. I'm talking about..." He paused and looked around. When he spoke again, it was in a lowered voice. "The prophecy."

"I'm okay on that, too," he said, ignoring the fact that his stomach had done another backflip when Ron had mentioned it.

Both Ron and Hermione looked skeptical at this.

"No, I really am," he insisted. "I'm scared as hell, but that bastard's taken so much from so many people, I want it _over_!" He didn't even notice that his voice had risen. "I'm tired of him slinking around proclaiming pureblood superiority when he's a halfblood! I'm tired of him being a coward, hitting Muggles and wizards who can't fight back properly, fleeing at the first sign of a competent opponent! But most of all," he said, his voice dropping back to a normal level, "I'm tired of people I care about getting hurt because of that tosser." For a moment, Harry felt older than he'd ever felt before. The responsibility on his shoulders seemed like a suffocating weight for just a second, and then the moment passed.

It was silent in the Burrow's kitchen for a full minute. Then Hermione spoke up.

"I know it's your cross to bear, Harry, but Ron and I aren't going to let you bear it alone."

Harry smiled at both of them. "I know you're not going to, whether or not I want you to stay safe. I won't waste my breath or insult you by even trying to convince you."

Ron and Hermione returned his smile. "You got that one right," said Ron.


	6. Chapter 6

VI.

Birthday

Because they had received their O.W.L. results and school letters so close to Harry's birthday, Mrs. Weasley decided to do the congratulatory party and Harry's birthday party at the same time. On the morning of his sixteenth birthday, Harry woke up fairly early, and went downstairs without Ron (who was snoring in his bed) to find Ginny sitting by herself eating breakfast.

"Morning," he said, sitting down across from her. There was a half-full platter of eggs, bacon, sausage, toast, kippers, and tomatoes, and he started filling his plate, feeling particularly hungry that morning.

"Good morning, Harry," said Ginny. "Happy Birthday!"

He grinned at her. "Thanks! Where's your mum?"

She shrugged unconcernedly. "I have no idea. She went off just as I was coming down for something to eat. I asked her to put a Warming Charm on the platter so the food would stay warm. She probably went off somewhere to pick up some last-minute things for your birthday party."

Harry felt his face grow a little warm. "She doesn't have to do that," he said.

"Of course she doesn't," said Ginny. "She wants to. She loves birthday parties, and I'll warn you now, she's going to go all out on this one. It's going to be big. Now, I know Ron told her that you would only want a small party," she added, as Harry started to object, "And I know that the guest list is pretty short. But she's decided that if she can't have quantity, she'll go for quality, so she's making all your favorites. There's going to be a lot of cooking today." she finished with a wry smile.

"Where's Hermione?" he asked, remembering that the two of them shared Ginny's room.

"Still asleep. She was up late last night reading. She does that a lot, actually," Ginny replied. She took a last bite of bacon, then Banished her plate to the sink. "What?" she asked, in response to Harry's look.

"You Banished your plate, Ginny," he said.

"Oh, right," she said airily. "I forgot. Dad let us in on a little secret. Well," she amended with a grin, "Fred and George let us in on a little secret that they heard Dad letting on to Percy. The Ministry can only detect magic being done in a certain location, they can't determine who did it."

"Oh..." Harry said, realizing what that meant. "So that's why I got the warning for using a Hover Charm a few years ago when it was actually Dobby." He grinned at her. "But I'm guessing you don't let your mum see you do that?"

She giggled. "Of course not, Harry. D'you think I'm stupid? Ron does it, too. Almost got caught, the git. He Stunned a garden gnome when she was right in the kitchen. She saw the flash of light, but I think he managed to convince her that it was something that Dad was doing, because he was tinkering in his shed at the time."

He laughed and took a bite of his eggs. "So I can use my wand, too?"

"Of course," she said cheerfully. "Just don't let Mum catch you at it. She did manage to catch Fred and George once. They Summoned some butterbeer from the kitchen just as she came inside."

They chatted for a few minutes as Harry finished his breakfast. Then, after Vanishing his plate (to his slight relief, it reappeared neatly stacked on top of Ginny's in the sink), he turned to go back upstairs to see if he could wake Ron up. But a hand on his shoulder stopped him, and he turned around to see Ginny looking up at him unusually seriously. "Before you go to wake up Ron," she said, "I need to talk to you."

"Sure," he said, slightly taken aback by her suddenly somber manner.

"In private," she added, and now Harry was completely bewildered. Where was this going?

"Of course," he said, and followed her outside and down to the same place he'd tested his father's Auror ring, the clearing by the pond. "What's up?"

"I have something to confess," she began, looking nervous. "Two days ago, I was in the kitchen, getting some water. I'd been gardening, you know, and it was a hot day." She hesitated for a moment. "Well, I was getting some water, and I heard you talking to Ron and Hermione in the other room."

Harry blinked. "You heard me tell Ron and Hermione about..." he began slowly.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" she burst out, interrupting him. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but you were talking kind of loudly, and I heard the whole thing." She looked at him miserably.

"So you know about what I have to do with Voldemort?" he asked, scarcely believing his ears.

Ginny nodded, looking as if she was about to cry.

Harry took a deep breath, trying to think. He knew that she wouldn't tell anyone, but... "You realize you'll be in terrible danger if anyone realizes you heard the prophecy?" he asked.

"I know," she said in a small voice. "And I didn't want to tell you at first. I felt so bad about hearing it, and I was so scared for you. But I felt more and more guilty about it, and I decided this morning, right before you came down, that I was going to tell you."

"Well, I do appreciate that," he said, scratching the back of his head and wondering what else he should say to her. Harry honestly wasn't sure how to feel about this new revelation. He wasn't angry at her in any way; she couldn't help hearing what she heard. And it made him feel a bit better the way she'd reacted. She'd behaved completely normally to him the last couple of days, even with the knowledge of the prophecy and that his life would either contain or end in murder. "And I'm not mad," he added. "I just wish you'd found out in a different way, if you had to find out at all." He paused again, then said, "So, you're...okay with what I have to do?"

Harry was taken completely by surprise when she wrapped her arms around his chest and squeezed tight. "Of course I am, you prat," she said in a muffled voice, then looked up. Harry was shocked to see tears in her eyes.

"It doesn't bother you that I have to murder someone or be murdered?"

"Oh, Harry, if you kill You-Know-Who, it wouldn't be murder. Murder implies that the killing would be unjustified, and I think there are more justifications for killing him than anyone else. And," she added, "I know you'll have Ron and Hermione with you, but if you ever need anything, please don't hesitate to ask me either."

Harry felt a surge of affection for Ginny, and surprised himself by hugging her back. "Thanks, Ginny. That means a lot to me. I told Ron and Hermione the other day that I knew that they would follow me whether or not I wanted them to, and that I wouldn't insult them by trying to tell them not to. I'll do you the same courtesy."

"Thanks," she said, and her voice was back to normal. She released him from the hug, and he did likewise a moment later. "If you don't mind my asking, how do _you _feel about it?" she asked, a little hesitantly. Harry realized with a pang that she was also expecting him to fly off the handle, like he'd done last year. He shrugged.

"It changes from day to day," he admitted. "When I'm with Ron and Hermione, or you and them, I don't really think about it all that much." He took a deep breath. "But when I'm alone, it weighs on me sometimes," he admitted. "I mean, I saw him duel Professor Dumbledore at the Department of Mysteries. They were both incredible. Dumbledore said that he was going to give me private lessons, but how is he going to bring me up to _that_? They dueled at a level I thought was impossible, and Dumbledore, especially, was so calm. And then I start thinking about how likely it is that I'm going to die, and then I try to..."

"Harry!" Ginny interrupted angrily. He looked at her and was surprised to see a matching expression on her face. "Don't think about things like that! If you go in there and duel with... V-Vol-_Voldemort_ thinking that you're going to die, you will!" Harry was so shocked at hearing her say the Dark Lord's name that he forgot for a second what else she had said. Then something occurred to him.

"Ginny, can I ask _you _a question?" She nodded, and he continued. "Well, I wanted to ask you about how you managed to fight Voldemort when his diary possessed you."

She blanched at that, and Harry thought for a second that she was going to storm off, but then she recovered herself and said, "Harry, that's quite a question."

"I'm sorry," he said quickly. "But Voldemort possessed me at the Department of Mysteries, and I managed to make him leave, but I don't know how."  
"He _possessed_ you?" Ginny said incredulously, gaping at him.

"Only for a little while," he said, thinking that it had been a stupid thing to ask her. He was about to apologize again and change the subject when she answered.

"Well, at first, I didn't fight at all," she said. "I didn't even realize what he was doing. I just knew that I'd suddenly find myself somewhere and not know how I'd gotten there, or what I was doing. The first time it happened, I was in the Common Room, and I thought I'd been sleepwalking or something. But after a while, I realized that something strange was happening. I'd have brief memories of doing things, or and I managed to eventually toss the diary away. We all know how _that _ended up," she finished wryly, and despite the seriousness of the conversation, Harry chuckled. "But as for fighting him, I think it was honestly because he kept saying things about _you_. I know I was just a silly little girl then, but I knew from the way Ron had described you over the summer, and then the way that you acted in real life that everything that Tom was saying was wrong. He got very angry when I refused to believe what he said about you, and I managed to fight off a possession twice."

"How did you do it?" Harry asked quietly, amazed at how easily she was talking about what must have been a harrowing experience.

"By thinking of the people I loved." she said simply. "My mum and dad, Fred and George, Bill, Charlie, Percy, Ron, and you," she added, blushing slightly. "You were so nice to me that whole year. When I thought of my family a lot, he almost seemed like he was in pain, like the thought of love was actually harming him."

"That was how I got him out," Harry whispered. A light had clicked on in his head. "I was in so much pain, and I just wanted Dumbledore to kill me—Voldemort was telling him to—and I thought that if I died, at least I would see Sirius again."

Ginny sat silently for a moment, then put her arm around his shoulder. He leaned into it a bit. It felt nice to have her arm there. Ron had never been the hugging sort, while Hermione's enthusiastic embraces always left him rather short of breath. Mrs. Weasley gave out nice hugs, but in a much different, more motherly sort of way. "How are you feeling about that?" Ginny asked finally.

He felt his stomach clench a little. "It still hurts," he admitted. "I mean, I know that Bellatrix killed him. But he only came there because I was stupid enough to believe in a vision that Voldemort sent me." He sighed, wondering why he didn't mind telling Ginny about this. Maybe because she wasn't so damned pushy like Hermione was, and was obviously more comfortable talking about this kind of thing than Ron was.

She squeezed his shoulders a little harder. "Harry, I don't think Sirius would blame you for a second. How could you possibly have known that the vision was a fake? You saved my dad a few months before using a similar vision."

He just shrugged, not really having anything to say to that. He leaned a bit more into her arm. enjoying the contact. Sirius had hugged him like this many times. They sat like that for a few minutes, enjoying each other's company before he said, "We should probably be heading back now. Ron might be getting a little worried if he's awake."

Ginny snorted as she looked at her watch. "Not bloody likely, it's only a quarter after nine. If mum's not home, he usually doesn't get his arse out of bed until half past ten."

They stood up, and Ginny turned to head back, but he touched her arm. "Thanks a lot," he said, and she smiled at him.

"No problem, Harry. No problem at all."

They walked back to the Burrow together, and Harry couldn't help but notice how pretty her hair looked in the morning sun, or the way she made jokes as they walked back, or most of all, the way she'd helped him find some comfort in the last twenty minutes.

** *

The party that night was terrific. Ginny had been right about the guest list; only the Weasleys (sans Percy), Tonks, Lupin, and oddly enough, Moody had come, but Mrs. Weasley outdid herself in the preparations.

When Lupin heard of Harry's O.W.L. scores, he laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. "Congratulations, Harry," he said. "You got better grades than I did in Potions. I barely scraped an E. I also heard about that Patronus you did on the Defense exam."

"It was all thanks to you, Remus," Harry said cheerfully. "You taught me how to do it."

Lupin waved off the compliment, but Harry thought he looked quite pleased all the same.

Moody was impressed with Harry's grades and told him so. "Especially since Minerva mentioned to me that you had an interest in being an Auror," he said, and Harry nodded.

"That's right, sir."

Moody smiled, which made his heavily scarred face even more unpleasant to look at, but Harry ignored this, and returned the smile. "Call me Mad-Eye. You'll make a damn fine Auror, I'd wager, if what happened in the Department of Mysteries is any indication. This should help in the process." He handed Harry a book.

"'_The Auror's Handbook_, by Alastor Moody, Former Head of the Auror Office,'" Harry read. "Thanks, Prof—er, Mad-Eye," he said.

"No trouble, Potter, none at all," said Moody, still smiling. "Of course, that book is technically illegal for anyone but an Auror trainee or an Auror to read, but I wouldn't worry about that too much." He gave Harry a hearty slap on the back, and went to talk to Mr. Weasley.

Out of curiosity, Harry opened the book to the table of contents and scanned it. There were some fascinating-looking chapters, he noticed, especially the one about dueling tactics and the one about Auror-only spells. He put the book down as Mrs. Weasley called everyone over for dinner.

Like Ginny had said, she had cooked all of his favorites, including steak-and-kidney pie and treacle tart for dessert. Mrs. Weasley had somehow managed to outdo herself on the cooking. It was the most delicious meal that Harry had ever eaten, even outshining the food at the start-of-term feasts at Hogwarts, and he told her so, making her blush harder than Harry had ever seen.

After dinner, they gathered in the living room, where to Harry's immense embarassment, there was a pile of packages for him.

Ron tossed him an obviously hastily wrapped package, and he caught it and opened it to find a pair of dragon-hide Seeker's gloves, specially charmed to keep his hands warm even during the coldest conditions. "Thanks, mate!" he exclaimed, whacking Ron on the shoulder. "These are brilliant!"

Ron grinned back, his ears red. "You were always complaining about your hands getting numb during the match, so I thought these would help."

Harry picked up a very neatly wrapped present that he was sure was from Hermione, and he wasn't disappointed when she sat down next to him. "I thought it would be useful for you, Harry, especially if you want to continue the D.A. this year."

He tore off the paper to find a large, black book with gold lettering on the cover saying, _The Comprehensive Guide to Combat Hexes, Jinxes, Curses, and their Counters_. "Thanks, Hermione, this should be really useful," he said, and smiled at her. "It's got quite a title," he added, and she smiled back.

"You're welcome, Harry."

Hagrid had sent his present by owl post; Harry was a bit reluctant to open it up, since Hagrid had been known to send hazardous presents in the past, including a biting wallet and a very violent textbook. It was a book, but it turned out to be a copy of the N.E.W.T. Care of Magical Creatures textbook, which, mercifully, did not attempt to bite him, though Harry swore he saw the eyes on the cover blink. Hermione smiled approvingly at Hagrid's choice of gift.

Bill gave him a refill of broom polish for his Broom Servicing Kit, while Charlie gave him a small moving model of his favorite type of dragon, the Ukrainian Ironbelly. Fred and George slipped him a small box while Mrs. Weasley's back was turned. "It's had a Shrinking Charm put on it," whispered George. "Wait until Mum's out of sight to open it up. It's got a nice selection of some of our finest products." They winked at him, and he slid it into his pocket.

Tonks got him a small book on shield charms, and Lupin gave him a few pictures of Sirius to put in the photo album that Hagrid had made him at the end of his first year. Finally, Ginny was the only one left. He tore off the paper, and found a nicely framed picture of himself, Ron, and Hermione that he recognized as one Colin Creevy had taken at some point during a D.A. meeting, and even as he watched, Ernie Macmillan dodged into view, followed by Neville, who was shooting Stunners at him. Harry laughed. "This is brilliant, Ginny!" he said, and she beamed at him.

"I wasn't sure if you had a picture of you three, and I thought the D.A. practicing in the background would add something to it," she said, still smiling.

"It certainly does," murmured Hermione, who was watching Fred and George torment Zacharias Smith with Tickling Charms. Harry remembered the Hufflepuff as being a bit of a prat at the D.A. Meetings last year. Ron laughed as the photographic twins stopped and waved at their real counterparts, who were looking over his shoulder.

"Thanks, Ginny," he said, and she hugged him.

"You're welcome," she said, and over her head, Harry saw Hermione give him a very penetrating look. He averted his eyes.

Later that night, the four of them were sitting in the parlor. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had already gone up to bed, and the rest of the guests had left. Harry was looking through the book Hermione had gotten him; it really was quite a book. There were an amazing number of very useful ways to hurt your enemies when dueling them, and it suggested new ways to use spells that Harry already knew. He was reading the article on the Battering Curse, which struck the caster's opponent with a blast of raw force. It looked quite useful, and the wand movement was very easy, just a jab in the opponent's direction and then the incantation, _Everbero_. He turned the page to find a rather nasty looking spell that shot a bolt of lightning at one's opponent, though according to the book, it was a rather twitchy spell; if the wand movement was done at all wrong, he'd likely shock himself. He moved his finger in the prescribed motion, which was a sort of zig-zag, and thought _Fulminus_!

A bright white spark shot across the room and hit Ron, making his hair stand on end.

Harry froze. Had he just cast a spell wandlessly and silently? Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were staring at him as though he was a ghost, their faces pale and eyes wide. "I don't know what happened..." he began numbly. "I was just practicing a wand movement with my finger, and I thought the incantation, and it just sort of happened..." Harry trailed off, not sure of what else to say.

"Blimey," said Ron faintly. "I'm tingling all over..." He attempted to smoothe down his hair to no avail. It was still standing up, making him look like he was wearing a flaming porcupine on his head.

Hermione was the first to recover. "We need to try this again," she said. "If you can do this sort of thing at will, that'll be a huge advantage! Try a Stunner."

Harry wasn't at all sure about this. "I have no idea how I managed to do the other spell," he said. "Besides, it's supposed to be a big bolt of lightning, and that was just a little spark."

"Come on, Harry," said Hermione in a wheedling tone. "Just try it."

Doubtfully, Harry took aim at a cushion, made the motion for the Stunning Spell, and thought, _Stupefy!_

Nothing happened. Hermione looked faintly disappointed, Ron was still distracted, now trying to smoothe down the hair on his arms which had also been standing on end, and Ginny looked interested now.

"Maybe I'm still having attacks of uncontrolled magic?" Harry suggested.

"That's very unlikely," said Hermione. "I mean, acts of uncontrolled magic _are _wandless and silent, but they don't usually happen when someone thinks the incantation and makes the motion for the spell. They just sort of...happen. Maybe you should ask Professor Dumbledore." Harry nodded agreement. Dumbledore would know what was going on.

"Besides," said Ron cheerfully, "it'll be right useful if you can do silent spells, even if you have a wand. We're supposed to be learning them this year, and they're supposed to be really tough."

"Try using your wand," suggested Ginny. "But don't use any words, just try to cast the spell without speaking."

"That's an excellent idea, Ginny," said Hermione approvingly. "Try another Stunner on Ron."

"What?" said Ron loudly. "Why am _I _the test subject? You're so bloody interested, why don't you do it?"

"Are you willing to let anyone curse your girlfriend, Ronald?" said Hermione sweetly, but with a hint of menace. Ron swallowed.

"Of course not," he said quickly, "but this is Harry. He's not going to hurt you... Oh, fine!" He stood up huffily and moved over in front of Harry, making sure that he stayed where he could still fall on the couch. "All right, mate," he said, "give it your best shot."

Harry pulled out his wand, made the motion, and thought _Stupefy!_ as hard as he could.

A faint bolt of red light hit Ron, who didn't pass out, but sat down hard on the floor, and looked a little woozy.

"Are you all right, Ron?" he asked, concerned.

"Yeah," said Ron faintly. "It wasn't a full Stunner, otherwise you would have knocked me out. But I feel really tired all of a sudden, and my legs are weak." Hermione helped him sit down on the couch, where he laid his head back and closed his eyes.

"So, you have a step up on everyone else in your year," said Ginny, smiling at him.

_Merlin, she has a nice smile,_ Harry thought, then shook himself.

"What about a wandless spell but with the incantation?" Hermione muttered to herself. She looked back at Harry. "Harry, do you think you could do the spell without a wand but with saying the incantation?"

"I can try," said Harry. "What do you want me to do?" He gestured at Ron. "Our practice dummy is looking a little peaky." He smirked at the gesture Ron made in return.

"Well, try it on me, then," said Hermione, obviously bracing herself. "I think I'll stay sitting down, though." Ron snorted.

Harry put his wand down on the coffee table and held out his hand toward Hermione, unsure if it was needed. He moved his hand for the fourth time in the motion for the Stunning Spell, and said, "_Stupefy!_"

Nothing happened that Harry could see, but Hermione was looking excited anyway. When he asked why, she said, "Because I could see your hand glow slightly red before it faded away. That means that you at least started to cast it. I think you need to concentrate more on it."

But Harry was feeling very weak all of a sudden, much like he'd felt after he'd tried to cast the Killing Curse at Dumbledore's insistence. He sat down, feeling sweat bead on his forehead.

"Are you all right, Harry?" Ginny asked, her tone concerned.

"Yeah," he said, slightly breathlessly. "It just took a lot out of me for some reason."

"I'm not surprised," said Hermione. "I mean, only the most powerful wizards can perform even simple spells wandlessly. The only two I've ever seen do it were Dumbledore himself, and Professor Lupin."

"Wait, Lupin?" said Ron, snickering a little. "Come on, he was probably the best teacher we had, but does he look really powerful to _you_?"

"Don't you remember, Ron?" asked Hermione. "Remember when he was coming to school on the train, and when the lights went out from the dementors, he conjured a ball of fire without actually using his wand?"

"That's right," said Harry, remembering. "And you said that he cast the Patronus Charm after I passed out. Did he use his wand?"

"Yes, I think so," Hermione replied, obviously thinking hard. "But I don't think he said the incantation!"

Ron whistled. "That's impressive. The Patronus Charm without saying anything?" Ginny and Hermione nodded in agreement, but Harry couldn't muster the energy. He laid his head back and felt his eyelids start to close...

_He was standing in a dark room, one hand gripping a large obsidian chair, while three figures in black robes kneeled before him, their faces flat against the ground._

_"It seems," Harry began in a high, cold voice, "that my newest followers are less well trained than I would have liked." He waved his wand, and the three figures were flipped over so that they were laying on their backs, their faces covered in masks that did not hide the terror in their eyes. "You fools! Do you realize what this has done?! The Aurors are laughing at me even now!" _

_"Master, please," begged one of them. "We had no idea that they were so ill-equipped to fight!"_

_"SILENCE!" roared Harry, pointing his wand at the one who spoke. "I want no excuses! _Crucio!_"_ _The man writhed and shrieked on the floor, caught in the throes of unimaginable pain for nearly a minute before Harry raised the spell. "You _will _do better with the next batch, Avery," he said in a controlled voice that nonetheless carried an undertone of immense rage. "Or I next time, I won't lift the curse. Now, get out of my sight, and make sure that my next group of Death Eaters are less pathetic than the slugs you provided me with this time!"_

"Wake up, Harry!"

Harry flew upright, his scar burning, and the last vestiges of Voldemort's rage fading from his mind.

"What happened, Harry?" asked Ginny, who was bent over him like she'd been trying to shake him awake.

"He's really angry," said Harry, shuddering. "He was yelling at Avery and two others, and then one of them tried to make an excuse for the failed attack on Diagon Alley and he used the Cruciatus Curse on him." He shivered again. "I managed to force myself out of his mind just as you lot woke me up." Harry stood up, and would have fallen right back down again if Ron hadn't caught him.

"Come on, mate," said Ron soothingly. "I think we need to get you upstairs and into bed." He wrapped Harry's arm around his shoulder and put his arm around Harry's waist. Harry was barely able to make it up to Ron's bedroom before his legs gave way, and he sank gratefully down on his bed.

"Thanks, Ron," he said.

"Not a problem, Harry," said Ron, smiling. "You need some rest, I think. Having your mind attacked always seems to wear you out." Harry nodded, and was barely able to clear his mind like Dumbledore had asked before he drifted off to sleep. He didn't even hear the latch of the door click as Ron headed back downstairs.


	7. Chapter 7

VII.

Diagon and Dolores

The next week was mercifully clear of visions of Voldemort, though on occasion, Harry's scar would burn and he would feel faint echoes of emotions that were not his own. The regular school letters arrived, and Ginny, to Mrs. Weasley's chagrin, (and much to Ginny's relief, Harry suspected), was not selected as a Prefect. She didn't seem bothered at all by it, saying that she "didn't want to have to deal with all the rubbish of the job," an attitude which scandalized her mother and Hermione, and amused Harry and her brothers.

"It's not a rubbish job at all," Hermione had said heatedly when Ginny made her opinion known. "It's a very good position and one that gives you a great deal of responsibility and authority."

"Yeah, but wouldn't I be a hypocrite if I punished younger students for pranks and then went out and did my own?" Ginny replied, her face the picture of offended virtue. Harry laughed while Hermione just rolled her eyes and gave up.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione also filled out their class selection forms. Harry immediately dropped History of Magic and Divination, relieved that he would never have to hear another death prediction from Professor Trelawney, nor listen to Professor Binns wheeze on like a vacuum cleaner on its last legs. He did stick with the four classes required for an Auror, Transfiguration, Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Potions, as well as sign up for Care of Magical Creatures and Herbology, making a total of six classes, which apparently was the regular load for sixth and seventh years. Ron signed up for the same classes, except Potions, making his year slightly light, something which he never tired of pointing out to Hermione, who was taking all the courses that she'd gotten an O.W.L. in, except for Astronomy and History, which didn't offer N.E.W.T. levels.

A week and a half after Harry's birthday, Mrs. Weasley announced as they all sat at breakfast (Ron had gotten up remarkably early, for him) that they would be headed into Diagon Alley in order to purchase their school supplies. "You'll have a guard," she'd added privately to Harry, who had groaned when she was out of earshot. This was going to get bloody old, bloody fast.

An hour after breakfast, Harry, Hermione, Ron, Ginny, and Mrs. Weasley were standing in the parlor, preparing to Floo into Fred and George's shop in Diagon Alley, where they would meet the escort from the Order. Harry tucked his glasses safely into his pocket, as Floo travel was not one of his strengths. Nearly every time he'd done it in the past, he'd wound up with broken glasses.

A moment after tossing a handful of glittering powder into the flames and calling out, "Ninety-four Diagon Alley!", two pairs of hands caught him as he stumbled out of the fireplace and into a riot of color. Harry put his glasses back onto his face, and looked up to see Fred and George grinning widely at him.

"Manages to duel personally with You-Know-Who—" began George.

"Not to mention fight off ten Death Eaters—" continued Fred.

"But the poor lad still can't travel by Floo!" finished George.

"Oh, shut up," Harry said, but couldn't help but smile. The store was decorated in what appeared to be a purposely offensive color scheme, with lime green walls and bright purple shelves. The floor was bright orange, and Harry had to squint for a second at the assault on his eyes. Fred and George were wearing tie-dyed robes, which only served to add to the visual chaos of the store.

"D'you like our decor?" asked George happily.

"We made it as unique as possible," said Fred.

Harry rolled his eyes and stepped forward just as Ron appeared in the fireplace behind him. "Bloody hell!" he exclaimed, stepping out into the garish store. "Should have brought sunglasses!" Ron immediately went looking through the shelves, grinning in delight at what he found there.

"Hang on a moment," said George, as Harry went to follow him. "Wait until everyone's come through. Fred and I need to talk to you." Harry stood patiently next to the twins as first Ginny, then Hermione, and finally, Mrs. Weasley came through the fireplace. All of them squinted at the colors. Mrs. Weasley went to grab Harry, but he told her that he needed to speak to Fred and George, and she went off to look for their guard.

"Right," said Fred, as soon as their mother was out of earshot. "Now, Harry, since you're the one who provided us with our initial investment—"

"And fought hard against that rotten bint Umbridge—"

"Not to mention drive off You-Know-Who himself about four times—"

"We've decided that anything you want here is yours for the taking. Even if it's a custom order. We'd be honored to make it for you."

Harry had never seen the twins appear so serious. "Guys, you really don't have to do that," he began, but Fred cut him off.

"We know we don't, Harry. But we owe you a huge debt. If there's anything we can do to help you—"

"_Anything_," said George emphatically.

"You need only ask. Ah, and I see that your guard has arrived!"

To Harry's delight, Lupin and Tonks had just walked in the door.

"Wotcher, Harry!" said Tonks cheerfully, ignoring the box of trick wands that she knocked over. Several wands fell onto the floor and turned into an odd assortment of rubber chickens, rainbow handkerchiefs, and various types of cutlery.

"Hi, Tonks," said Harry. "Hi, Remus."

Lupin smiled at him. "Well, let's be off. I don't think there will be any trouble in the Alley today, with the Aurors and Law Enforcement Patrol wizards all over, but no sense being out here any longer than necessary."

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, along with Tonks and Lupin, walked out of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, and the change in atmosphere was a drastic one. The usually lively Diagon Alley was much emptier than usual. There were serious-looking wizards standing every few stores, glancing around with cold eyes. Several stores had broken windows, and the walls of many more had holes or scorch marks in them. "We still haven't finished cleaning up," said Tonks, shaking her head. "But it still looks a lot better than it did right after the battle was over."

They came up to Gringotts. In front of the bank was a solitary figure, in the dark gray robes of the Aurors. He had long flowing red hair, a shade or two darker than the bright Weasley red, and his mossy green eyes never stopped scanning the semi-deserted street for threats. Tonks waved at him. He smiled briefly and his eyes crinkled slightly, before he assumed his previous grim expression and went back to scanning.

"That's Darius Vance," Tonks whispered to the four of them. "He's one of the more senior Aurors, a little bit above Kingsley. Kind of a weird fellow, but he's brilliant, and a very good duelist, as well."

"Vance?" said Hermione. "Related to Emmeline Vance?"

"I don't think so," said Tonks. "They're both in the Order, and they've met a couple times. Darius thinks it's funny; he's Muggle-born, and she's pureblood. Won't stop cracking jokes."

"He's in the Order?" asked Harry.

"Yeah," said Tonks. "Joined up last year, and I guess he was in it when You-Know-Who was first running around. He may work for the Ministry, but believe me, there's no love lost there." She grinned. "Dumbledore says that he's quickly turning into another Ministry malcontent like Moody."

They walked past Darius Vance and into Gringotts, where they were met with Goblin security, which was considerably more than Harry remembered the last time he'd been in the building. At least a half dozen Goblins now flanked the gilded doors of the bank, clad in silver armor and wielding nasty but effective-looking weapons. The goblins definitely seemed to understand the intimidating nature of their equipment; they rattled their weapons at passersby and made horrible faces. He heard one of them laugh about it as they passed.

Harry's vault was fuller than he'd remembered, most likely because he'd added about half of Sirius's gold assets to it. He scooped as much gold as he could into a bag, before closing the door, not meeting the eyes of any of the Weasleys. Mrs. Weasley stopped by their family vault, which to Harry's pleasant surprise, had a considerable pile of Galleons in it.

"Sirius left Mum and Dad some," whispered Ron, and Harry smiled. No one deserved that gold more than the Weasleys.

Their first stop in Diagon Alley was Flourish and Blott's, the bookstore. It seemed busier than the rest of the stores on the Alley, but that really wasn't saying much, Harry reflected. Most of the customers were younger wizards and witches and their parents, presumably doing their Hogwarts shopping.

Harry wandered off, looking for his required schoolbooks. There were quite a lot of them this year, though they'd have to last him over the next two years, so he probably wouldn't be making any stops in the store for books next summer. He had just picked up _Advanced Transfiguration _and was paging through one of his N.E.W.T. Charms books, _One Hundred Very Useful and Irritatingly Complex Spells_, when he caught sight of a person he'd never expected to see again.

Dolores Umbridge, the short, tyrannical, and to Harry's thinking, irredeemably evil former Headmistress of Hogwarts was wandering idly through the bookstore. He felt a surge of hatred strong enough to make his head hurt flow through him, and ducked back behind the bookshelf, hoping against hope that she hadn't she seen him. He had no desire to confront her, not with so many other things on his shoulders at the moment. Harry wasn't entirely sure how he would react if she actually tried speaking to him; he only knew it would probably be brief, violent, and probably result in his expulsion from Hogwarts for underage magic and probable imprisonment in Azkaban for assaulting a Ministry official. He put his books down and started to make for the door, looking for his friends to warn them of her presence.

But his curiosity began to set its hooks in him as well.

What was Umbridge doing here? Shouldn't she be up in the Ministry trying desperately to help Fudge maintain his loosening grip on power? Hoping desperately that Hermione, Ron, and Ginny hadn't seen her, nor she them, he pulled out his Invisibility Cloak (which he'd taken to carrying around with him in a Moody-like act of paranoia), wrapped it around his shoulders, and poked his head out from behind the shelf. She was nowhere in sight.

He had just walked around the corner when he heard a noise behind him, and his father's Auror ring started to burn his finger. Making sure that the Cloak was still fully concealing him, he looked behind him to see Umbridge walking through the aisle that he'd just left, her wand drawn. She obviously had seen him. Wondering why on earth she was looking for him with her wand drawn, Harry carefully circled back through another aisle and came up behind her.

Her flabby, toadish face had confusion written all over it. Harry saw her shrug slightly, then put her wand away and walk towards the exit. He followed her out of the store, and throwing caution to the winds, down Diagon Alley towards the entrance to Knockturn Alley. Why in Merlin's name was Dolores Umbridge going into Knockturn Alley? Evil old hag she might have been, but he would have bet a healthy sum of Galleons that she wasn't a Death Eater.

Then things came perfectly into focus as a figure dressed in black stepped out of a shadowy doorway, the cowl of its robes drawn up over its head. Though Harry couldn't see the face, there was no mistaking the drawling, arrogant voice of Lucius Malfoy. "I saw the Potter boy heading into Flourish and Blott's with the werewolf half-breed and his little friends," said Umbridge, but her voice was flat, dull, and listless. Come to think of it, there was something strange about her eyes... "But he disappeared while I was looking for him." she was saying. Then, to Harry's amazement, her eyes seemed to clear for a moment, and she said, "Wait, what am I doing here? You!" she shrieked, pointing at Malfoy. "You're a Death Eater!" It couldn't have been clearer that she was about to dash out of Knockturn Alley and call an Auror over.

Malfoy quickly raised his wand and muttered, "_Imperio!_" Umbridge immediately relaxed, and the hazy look came into her eyes again. Then he put it away and continued as though this was nothing special. "Very well," he drawled. "I want you to follow him as best you can while Hogwarts is still out of session. If you get a chance to capture him, by all means take it. Once the school year begins, do your best to incapacitate him or arrange for his transport out of the school without drawing attention to yourself. While he is under Dumbledore's care, he will be exceedingly hard to get to. That will be all." With a sudden crack, Malfoy Disapparated.

Umbridge remained standing still for a moment, then turned around and walked out of Knockturn Alley. Harry followed her, and when he saw that she was headed towards a different store, he went back into Flourish and Blott's, and went straight to Lupin.

He poked Lupin gently in the side, and whispered, "It's Harry. I'm under the cloak."

"Why are you under the cloak?" Lupin asked, sounding slightly exasperated and concerned at the same time.

"I need to talk to you in private," Harry said, ignoring the question. "It's urgent."

"All right, Harry. Follow me." Lupin went over to Tonks, and whispered something in her ear. She nodded and headed off towards Mrs. Weasley. Lupin led Harry out of the store and into a well-concealed corner of Diagon Alley Harry took off the cloak.

"All right, Harry, what's going on?"

Harry briefly explained what had happened with Umbridge and what he'd seen Malfoy do to her in Knockturn Alley. As he did so, Lupin's expression went from curiosity to surprise to disgust and finally to concern. After Harry finished explaining what he'd seen and heard, Lupin stood silently for a moment, then said, "I have to go tell Tonks. I thought you were just being paranoid, but..." He gave Harry a faint smile. "Well done, Harry. This is important information. I'll have Tonks and Molly keep an eye out for Umbridge, and we'll warn you if we see her around."

Harry followed Lupin back into Flourish and Blotts, again under the cover of his cloak. When he'd taken it off and found them, Hermione, Ron, and Ginny were looking quite worried, as he'd up and disappeared for the better part of fifteen minutes. They looked slightly mollified when he mouthed at them, "Tell you later." He quickly hunted down the remaining books he needed (_Dark Creatures: How to, Where to, And Why, in the Name of Merlin, to Find Them_, and _Hexes for the Hurried_), bought them, and walked next to Ron and Hermione out of the place. He noticed that Tonks and Lupin were looking particularly alert, probably keeping an eye out for Umbridge.

Their next stop was the Apothecary, where Harry, Hermione, and Ginny needed to pick up refills for their Potions kits. Ron stood outside, gloating that he didn't have to enter the rank-smelling place, but when Hermione pointed out that if he wanted to be tutored in N.E.W.T. Potions, he'd need ingredients as well, he subsided and tromped in with the rest of them. Despite the stench permeating the place, when they finished, they were all feeling rather hungry, so the four of them got a table at Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor. Tonks and Lupin didn't sit, but instead stood guard several yards away. Mrs. Weasley said she wasn't hungry, and went off into another store to do some more shopping.

"So where did you go while we were in Flourish and Blott's?" asked Ron, through a mouthful of shepherd's pie.

Harry lowered his voice and leaned forward. The other three followed suit. "I saw Umbridge in the store." The effect of this simple sentence was nothing short of impressive. Hermione's face darkened and her jaw clenched, Ginny developed a scowl highly reminiscent of her mother, and Ron's ears turned red, his face practically snarling.

"Umbridge!?" Hermione hissed, sounding like Crookshanks in a remarkably bad mood. "What was _she _doing in Flourish and Blott's?"

"Apparently, she was after me," said Harry quietly. "I'd thrown on my Invisibility Cloak and crept out of the aisle I was in to follow her, when she walked up into the aisle behind me with her wand drawn. Fortunately, she couldn't see me under the cloak, and I managed to follow her out of the store."

"Where'd she go?" asked Ginny.

"Into Knockturn Alley, and you'll never guess who she met down there," said Harry darkly.

"Voldemort?" said Hermione in a hushed voice. Ron choked.

"Of course not," said Harry. "D'you think he's going to show his face in public when the whole street's crawling with Aurors? No, she met with Lucius Malfoy. Said that she'd seen me in the bookstore, but lost me. She must've been under the Imperius Curse, because her eyes were odd in the bookstore, and her voice was kind of expressionless. But it started to slip off. Malfoy did it again on her, and told her to either find me before the year began, or arrange for some way for me to be removed from Hogwarts."

"Did you tell anyone?" asked Ginny, looking worried. Her ham and chicken sandwich was sitting abandoned in front of her.

"I told Lupin, and he said he'd pass the message on. That's why—"

"_Get down!_" hissed Ron suddenly, pushing down on Harry's head. Harry slipped under the table. "_And put on your cloak, quick!_"

Harry had just pulled the cloak over him when he saw a rather squat, short shadow make its way over to the table where the four of them were sitting. He slid out from under the table, and stood up, still concealed by the cloak. Dolores Umbridge was bearing down on the table. Her mousy brown hair was now streaked with grey and held in place by a black Alice band, and she was wearing the same foul pink cardigan that she'd worn at the start-of-term feast last year. _Where were Lupin and Tonks?_ Harry thought, looking around wildly for them. He spotted Tonks, too far away to do anything immediately, but with her hand on her wand and a very tense look on her face. Lupin, he didn't see anywhere.

He turned back to his friends, who didn't have the benefit of invisiblity. Hermione was clenching her jaw so tightly Harry imagined he could hear her teeth grinding together, while Ron's ears were red and his face was pale and angry, never a good sign. Ginny's face was cold and somehow predatory, like that of a cat about to pounce.

"Good morning, children," began Umbridge in her most sugary-sweet voice. Harry pulled his wand out of his pocket. He'd have the element of surprise in case she attacked them. He thought vaguely that attacking from underneath an Invisibility Cloak was unsporting, but quickly dismissed that notion when he remembered that she'd tried to use the Cruciatus Curse on him last year.

"What the bloody hell d'you want?" Ron asked, his voice dripping with contempt. Umbridge smirked.

"Such manners to a high ranking Ministry official," said Umbridge, in that same sickly sweet tone. "You should be more polite to your betters, Mr. Weasley, lest you reflect poorly on your father."

The threat did not go unnoticed. Ron's ears went even redder, something Harry had not thought possible, while Ginny let out a catlike hiss.

"What do you want, Ms. Umbridge?" Hermione asked, her tone cold but courteous.

"I'm merely looking for your friend Mr. Potter. Have you seen him around? I felt for sure that he would be with you."

"No idea where he is," said Ginny. Harry wondered if he should go for Tonks. All three of his friends seemed dangerously close to losing their tempers, and he didn't want them to all get expelled attacking Umbridge. _And where the bloody hell was Lupin?!_

"Really?" she asked, her smile growing wider. "Are you sure about that?"

"Very sure," said Hermione through clenched teeth. "Please leave us to our food."

"I think that you're lying to me," said Umbridge. "I think that perhaps you need some encouragement to be more honest." She went to draw her wand, but there was a flash of light as soon as she touched it, and it flew out of her fat little fingers.

Directly into Remus Lupin's outstretched hand. Harry blinked. He'd not even seen Lupin for the past minute, nor heard him sneak up on Umbridge, but there he was, Umbridge's stubby wand in one hand, his own wand in the other. It was pointed directly at her face.

Umbridge's toady face went from a sickening smile to a look of pure venom faster than Harry could blink. "_Lupin_," she hissed, looking at him with utter loathing.

"I certainly hope so," he said, smiling calmly. "And unless you want to deal with the Aurors and with me, I suggest that you leave those students alone."

"Filthy half-breed!" snarled Umbridge, earning a few curious looks from passersby.

"That's me," said Lupin cheerfully, idly buffing his nails on his robe, his wand never wavering. "But I'm only going to ask one more time. Leave those students alone, and get out of my sight. Or I use this lovely little thing," he said, waving his wand slightly. He tossed her wand on the ground at her feet.

Muttering ominous-sounding threats under her breath, Umbridge picked up her wand and stormed off, leaving puzzled glances and whispering in her wake. Lupin watched her leave, then walked over to the table once she was out of sight.

"Where's Harry?" he asked in a low voice once he reached the table.

"Right here," said Harry, taking a final glance around to make sure that Umbridge was nowhere in sight before slipping off the cloak. He turned to Ron. "Thanks for getting me under the table, mate," he said gratefully. "I didn't fancy her finding me."

"No problem," said Ron, though his ears were still red, and he still sounded angry. "That bloody _bitch!_" he snarled suddenly.

"I can't believe she still works at the Ministry!" said Hermione, not bothering to keep her voice down. "After what she _did_ last year?"

"Calm down," said Lupin. "Fudge has a very high opinion of her, and he's certainly not going to let an inconvenient little thing like the truth get in the way of his opinions."

"But she tried to cast an Unforgivable on Harry!" said Ginny loudly.

"And the only evidence of that is the word of four students," said Lupin. He shook his head. "They're not going to listen to four students, known troublemakers at that, over the word of the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister." Hermione bristled at the appellation of "troublemaker," but Ron and Ginny grinned.

They finished their lunches in silence, though Harry found that his appetite was lacking. Instead of eating his steak-and-kidney pie, he just poked at it with his fork. He finally gave it up as a bad job just as Ron had finished his lunch, and they decided to head off to look for new quills, ink, and parchment, as all four of them were running low. Mrs. Weasley met them just as they walked out of Fortescue's, apparently done with her shopping. No one mentioned what had just happened with Umbridge.

As they were walking along towards the Diagon Alley branch of Scrivenshaft's, something occured to Harry. He pulled Ron back to walk behind the others. "When's Ginny's birthday?" he asked quietly.

"Day after tomorrow," said Ron. "Why?"

"She got me a really nice present, and I want to get her something."

"Any ideas?" asked Ron.

"Not really," said Harry.

"Well, she's always wanted a cat," said Ron. "She just hasn't had time to get one, and she probably doesn't have the pocket money at the moment." He looked at Harry oddly. "Mum already said she could get one, it's just a matter of actually buying it."

"What color did she want?"

"Black," said Ron, grinning now. "Matches your hair."

"Shut it," said Harry, taking a half-hearted swing at him. "If you distract her, I'll slip into the store and pick one up."

"All right, let me tell Hermione. And you better check with mum, just to make sure."

In the end, it was decided that, after going to Scrivenshaft's, Hermione would distract Ginny by taking her into Madam Malkin's to look at dress robes, while Ron would come along with Harry into the Magical Menagerie and offer advice. Harry also ran the idea by Mrs. Weasley, who approved.

The store was just as Harry remembered it. There were still large black rats jumping rope with their tails in a cage on the counter, and racks of owl cages. The jewel encrusted turtle was still on display, though the self-transfiguring rabbit appeared to have been sold. He went deeper into the store until he found the cat section. Here there were cats and kittens of all colors and sizes, ranging from a white kitten no bigger than Harry's palm, to a large calico tom who had to have been twice as large as an ordinary housecat. Ron was not much help, choosing instead to poke fun at Harry, but they finally decided on a pure black female kitten with golden eyes.

Most unfortunately, the store was unable to deliver the kitten on Ginny's birthday, so Harry settled on putting it in a box, then having the saleslady Disillusion, Silence, and Featherweight the box, so he could carry it around (hopefully) without Ginny noticing it. Harry and Ron each also bought a box of Owl Treats, so they'd have an excuse as to why they'd gone in the store.

The two of them headed back to find the rest of the group, when from behind, there was a high-pitched, girlish giggle that sent chills down Harry's spine. He realized that he'd forgotten to put on his Invisibility Cloak. "Down!" he shouted, diving for the pavement, and dragging Ron down with him. A Stunning Spell went right over his head, making the hair on his neck stand up. "It's Umbridge!" Harry drew his wand and stood up. Ron did likewise.

Dolores Umbridge was standing a few yards away from him, looking completely unhinged. Her eyes were crazed and her hair was coming out from under the Alice band. "I've got you, Potter!" she screeched in delight, and sent another Stunner at him.

"_Protego!_" Harry shouted, deflecting the curse with a Shield Charm. Oh, Merlin, he'd just done magic in front of multiple witnesses. He only hoped it would fall under self-defense. Hopefully, Ron would restrain himself. No sense in both of them facing possible expulsion.

"Do you children really think you can duel a fully qualified Ministry official?" said Umbridge, a note of incredulity in her voice. Another Stunner, another deflection. The deflected Stunner went past Umbridge and hit a man crossing the street, knocking him unconscious.

"I know I can," said Harry. If he didn't stop her quickly, someone else was going to get hurt. But casting an offensive spell wouldn't sit well with the Ministry of Magic. He ducked as she cast a Blasting Curse, which went over his head and blew a chunk out of the wall of a shop. This could go on for a while, and clearly she didn't have any concern for the people now starting to get behind cover. He had to take her down now. Throwing caution to the wind, he decided to try out the Battering Curse he'd learned from the book Hermione had gotten him. He jabbed his wand at her, and shouted, "_Everbero!_"

A burst of bright blue light went streaking at Umbridge, and her Shield Charm failed to deflect it. She was blown back several feet and landed flat on her ample backside. Harry smiled grimly. The Battering Curse was a very useful spell to know.

"Where the bloody hell is Lupin?" muttered Ron, keeping his wand trained on Umbridge, who was rolling on the ground like an overturned turtle.

With a crack, Umbridge Disapparated, but Harry wasn't fooled. Ron breathed a sigh of relief, and made to put his wand away. "Don't," Harry barked. "Voldemort did this with Dumbledore at the Ministry—"

No sooner had he spoken then there was a crack behind him, and he whirled around to see Umbridge standing barely two feet away, a sick grin on her face. Harry brought his wand around, but he knew he'd be far too late...

Then there was a flash of red light, and Umbridge slumped wordlessly to the ground. Harry looked up, astonished, to see Tonks dashing towards him and Ron, her wand extended, the cheerful look she usually wore on her face gone. "_Incarcerous!_" she bellowed, and thick ropes sprang out of nowhere and wrapped themselves around Umbridge. "Are you two all right?" she asked, rather breathlessly. Harry and Ron nodded. "Good. _Ennervate!_" With a start, Umbridge woke up.

"Auror Tonks!" she said, sounding very surprised. "By whose authority am I restrained? I demand to be released _immediately!_"

"Oh, shut up, you miserable old toad," said Tonks. Umbridge's eyes bulged, and she opened her mouth to shout. Tonks rolled her eyes, and waved her wand at Umbridge. "_Silencio!_ Now, listen to me, and listen good. You've just attacked two underage wizards with no provocation in front of..." She looked up and took a quick survey of the street. "About a dozen witnesses. I'd keep quiet if I were you."

One of the Aurors on duty came running over. "Want me to take her in, Tonks?"

"No, I'll do it. But I'd be much obliged if you'd get the names of these witnesses and kept an eye on these two until someone comes for them."

"Righto," said the man.

"Blimey," said Ron, turning to look at Harry with an expression that was half exasperation, half commiseration. "I can't take you _anywhere_."


	8. Chapter 8

VIII.

Return to Hogwarts

The arrest of Dolores Umbridge, despite the fact that it had happened in front of a dozen witnesses, in broad daylight, and against Harry Potter, didn't make the front page of the _Daily Prophet,_ nor did it make the second, third, fourth, or any other page. Hermione was particularly disgusted by this, and attributed it to continuing desperation on the part of Cornelius Fudge to maintain power in the face of his own incompetence. Clearly the _Prophet_ was only too happy to play along.

Tonks, however, was a far better source for what had happened after the arrest of Umbridge than the _Prophet_ would ever be. The day that Umbridge was arrested, Tonks was nowhere to be seen until almost midnight, when she came into the kitchen of the Burrow to find Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Ginny still up waiting for her. Her face was even paler than usual, her expression wan and tired-looking. "I should have known you lot would be up waiting for answers," she said, smiling tiredly. "All right, I'll give you a quick run-down, and then I'm going to use the Floo to call Dumbledore, and then I'm going to Headquarters to sleep for about a day."

She Conjured up a chair for herself next to Ginny, and practically fell into it.

"So what happened when you arrested Umbridge?" asked Harry, who was wide awake and eager for answers.

"Well, I Apparated straight to the Auror Office, right to the Prisoner Holding Area. Kingsley happened to be on duty, and the look on his face when I showed up with the Senior Undersecretary tied up and Silenced was..." she trailed off and chuckled. "Well, it was priceless, to say the least. So as usual, we got her restrained in a cell, removed the ropes, and un-Silenced her, though that turned out to be a bit of a mistake. She wouldn't shut up.

"Fudge came dashing in barely five minutes after I'd arrived. Don't know how he knew what happened, but he started blustering about the ill-treatment of senior Ministry officials by the Aurors and that it was completely unacceptable and the usual dreck." She snorted. "Then I used the department's Pensieve to show what had happened."

"What'd Fudge do?" asked Ron.

"Fainted from shock, the fool," said Tonks with no little satisfaction. "Of course, the minute he was Ennervated, he went blustering off to the Misuse of Magic Office, probably to see Mafalda Hopkirk and see if there was anything he could do to get you," she said, nodding to Harry.

He felt a sudden trickle of nervousness. Facing expulsion once had been quite bad enough, and he had no desire to do it again. "Was there anything he could do?" he asked, with a dry mouth.

Tonks laughed. "Of course not. You were attacked first, then defended yourself, and only when she pressed the attack did you retaliate. He was hacked off about that, too." She shook her head. "Bloody bastard's still out to get you."

"But what happened to Umbridge?" asked Hermione, who'd been listening avidly. "Did you mention that she was under the Imperius Curse?"

"I told them that I suspected it," said Tonks. "But since the only evidence I have is hearsay, and that from a werewolf and an underage wizard..." She trailed off, not needing to say anything else. Everyone present knew of and hated the prejudice the Wizarding world showed towards werewolves. "Ironic, eh? She'll get in even more trouble, since the only two people who could give evidence that she was acting under the Imperius Curse are some of the people she's worked the hardest to alienate."

Harry snorted. Let Umbridge rot in Azkaban for awhile. If anyone deserved it, she did. "What's she being charged with?"

Tonks ticked off the charges on her fingers. "Let's see...assaulting a minor, regular assault for that rebounded Stunner that hit the man, gross misconduct for a Ministry official, anything else? Oh, property damage for that badly aimed Blasting Curse." She thought for a moment. "That's the lot, I think. I'd say that's worth, oh, two or three years in Azkaban, assuming, of course, that she doesn't get off."

"Assuming she doesn't get off?" said Ron incredulously. "You must be joking."

"It's quite possible," said Tonks, "that she'll get a slap on the wrist and then released. And that's why I've got to notify Dumbledore. If she's let off, she'll still be under the curse and a threat to you, Harry."

Hermione was fuming. "What about the public and the dozen or so eyewitnessess? Doesn't any of that matter?"

"Not to Fudge," said Tonks. "It all depends on the trial. Actually, Harry, now that I think of it, you'll be called to give testimony."

"Think they'll believe me?" Harry asked bitterly. "After last year?"

"You do have a dozen witnesses to back you up. And since Dumbledore's been reinstated as Chief Warlock, he'll be presiding over the trial," said Tonks reassuringly. "But I've really got to go talk to him. It's nearly midnight, and I don't want to sound like your mother, but you lot should be in bed. Good night, everyone." With that, she headed into the parlor, and Harry heard her say, "The office of Albus Dumbledore!"

"Well, that was an interesting insight into our justice system," said Hermione scathingly. "You get attacked by a certifiable maniac, and Fudge is more concerned about upholding his image than actually doing his job." She covered her face with her hands. "I can't believe what an idiot Fudge is. He knows that Voldemort—oh, grow _up_, Ron—is back, he knows that he's operating out there, and he's still more concerned with how things look than how they actually are. I just hope he gets sacked before things get too ugly."

"What d'you mean?" asked Ron.

"Well, Fudge has always been concerned about appearances more than substance," said Hermione. "Suppose that he decides it's more important to be seen doing something than actually trying to make a difference? I've read enough history to know that this kind of thing always happens. Power-hungry people take advantage of the populace's fear, and make themselves even more powerful."

Harry was forcibly reminded of a moment three and a half years ago: he and Ron crouching under the Invisibility Cloak in Hagrid's house, seeing Hagrid arrested for the attacks on Muggle-born students, and hearing Fudge say "_Got to be seen doing something_."

"Remember when Hagrid was arrested?" he said quietly. "Even then, Fudge was more concerned with how it looked than how it was. He threw Hagrid into Azkaban without any evidence."

"That's exactly what I'm talking about, Harry," said Hermione earnestly. "If Fudge is in office for much longer, I'm not sure if he's going to be on our side."

"Come off it," said Ron dismissively. "Fudge may be an idiot, but he's not going to side with You-Know-Who."

"That's not what I meant," said Hermione. "I meant that he'll probably wind up doing more harm than good in the fight. If he ever gets a whiff of the Order, he'll try to bring it under _his _control."

"Dumbledore wouldn't stand for that," said Harry, smirking at the very idea of Fudge trying to control Albus Dumbledore. The Minister himself, Umbridge, Percy, and two Aurors hadn't been able to capture Dumbledore last year.

"Of course he wouldn't," said Hermione. "But suppose Fudge turns on Dumbledore the way he did all of last year? He managed to drive Dumbledore from Hogwarts and place Umbridge in control." She sighed. "I suppose that I could be jumping at shadows, but I can't shake this feeling I have that the Ministry may well be more hindrance than help." She stood up and stretched. "I'm going to bed." Ron got up and followed her up the stairs, and Ginny turned to Harry.

"I suppose they're saying good night," she said, and Harry chuckled. His eyelids were starting to feel heavy as well. He glanced into the living room to see if Tonks was done yet, but her head was still in the fireplace. He could hear her voice, but the words were muffled, and he couldn't make out what she was saying.

"I think I'm going to turn in, too," he said, and Ginny nodded.

"Good idea."

Harry walked up the stairs, not even blinking as he passed Ron and Hermione embracing on the landing outside Ginny's bedroom. In Ron's room was the box holding the black kitten he'd picked up for Ginny. The kitten was mewling in a disgruntled sort of way, and Harry imagined that it couldn't be too happy to be cooped up like this. "It's only for a few more hours," he said quietly. The kitten ignored him and kept whining. "Oh, all right," he said.

Harry made sure that the bedroom door was shut tight, then opened the box and picked up the kitten. Immediately, she ceased her mewing and started purring. He sat down on his bed, and the kitten curled up in his lap. He idly stroked her for several minutes until Ron came in, then put her back in her box, made sure that the top was snug, and went to sleep.

** *

Ginny's birthday dawned depressingly gray and overcast. The clouds were dark and swollen, threatening to unleash a torrent of rain any moment, so any ideas for a pickup Quidditch game or even just a pleasant ride on a broom were right out. Instead, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny spent the day inside, playing a great deal of wizard's chess or Exploding Snap.

Dinner that night was a family affair, though Tonks showed up to wish Ginny a happy birthday. She expressed great appreciation for the presents she received, which included a Broomstick Servicing Kit from Ron, a set of O.W.L. review books from Hermione, and another large box of Fred and George's creations, which, like Harry's, was given to her when Mrs. Weasley's back was turned.

Like Harry had done with her gift on his birthday, Ginny saved his present for last. Harry had not bothered to wrap the box, and had poked airholes to make absolutely sure that the kitten would be able to breathe. After she'd stowed the shrunken box of Wheezes in her pocket, she finally reached over to Harry's plain cardboard box with the five circular holes in top.

The kitten had been agreeably quiet in her box for the day, seemingly content to just lie and sleep, though Harry had let her out earlier in the day to stretch her legs, have some food, and partake of Crookshanks's litter box. But as Ginny picked it up, the kitten must have moved, for the box shook in her hands, and she looked at Harry with an eyebrow cocked. "What could this be?" she asked, and Harry suppressed a grin. Mrs. Weasley, who had approved his present, and Mr. Weasley, who had been told about it, and Ron and Hermione, who had been in on the plan to buy it simply sat and watched while Ginny opened the top of the box.

The black kitten jumped out and landed right on her lap, letting out a soft meow. Ginny sat motionless for a moment, then put the kitten gently on the floor, and gave Harry an enormous hug that left him slightly breathless.

The kitten was standing where Ginny had put her, looking around the parlor, occasionally letting out a high-pitched meow. Ginny came back over to her and picked her up, beaming. The kitten started purring loudly, rubbing her head against Ginny's upper arm, and Ginny giggled.

"I think I'll call her Artemis," she said, stroking the kitten. Artemis purred even louder, and closed her golden eyes in obvious pleasure. She turned to Harry, and he smiled at her, glad that he'd made her happy like that, and a little nervous, since he was noticing how nice she looked when she smiled at him like that. "Thanks a lot, Harry," she said, and the sincerity in her voice was clear to everyone present.

"No problem," he said, grinning, feeling his stomach do a somersault as she grinned back. He was surprised to see how happy it made him that she liked his present. The somersault came again, even higher, as she gave him another hug.

Just then, Crookshanks wandered into the room, and Harry tensed up slightly. He'd forgotten about Hermione's cat. Suppose they didn't get along? What if Crookshanks tried to hurt Artemis? Harry didn't think he would, but there was always that risk... Apparently, Hermione had been thinking along the same lines, because she hurried over and scooped up Crookshanks, who let out a half-hearted meow of protest, then fell silent.

She slowly brought him over to where Ginny was holding Artemis. Ginny was looking slightly apprehensive as well, realizing that there was the potential for conflict. Crookshanks sniffed at Artemis, not showing any hostility, only a sort of detached curiosity. Then, to everyone's relief, he let out a calm purr, showing his approval of the younger cat. Hermione visibly relaxed, and Harry felt his tension drain away as she put Crookshanks down on the floor, where he was joined by Artemis a moment later. She rubbed against him a little, purring.

"I think she's got a crush," said Ginny, giggling again, and scratched Artemis behind the ears. She promptly forgot about Crookshanks, and leaned her head into Ginny's hand, purring loudly for such a small kitten.

"Well," said Mrs. Weasley, smiling broadly at Harry, "I'm glad you enjoy your new pet, and I'm sure Harry is as well. Just remember, Ginny, that a pet is a lot of responsibility, and..."

"I know, Mum," said Ginny, and she gave Harry a quick look of exasperation. "I've been taking care of Errol for ages now, remember?"

"That's true," said Mrs. Weasley, and then she yawned rather widely. "Oh! Excuse me, everyone. It's been a long day, and I'm more than ready to turn in. Arthur?"

"Yes, dear," he said. He did look a little frazzled, Harry noticed. _Must be doing a lot of work for the Order_.

"Don't stay up too late, you lot," said Mrs. Weasley, pausing at the foot of the stairs. "Good night." She disappeared up the stairs, followed by her husband.

Fred and George left soon after, first taking the opportunity to take the mickey out of Harry a little about his present for Ginny. Bill and Charlie left right after the twins, Charlie to head back to Headquarters for some rest, Bill to go out on duty for the Order.

Once the room was empty except for the four of them, Ron sat down on a couch, and Hermione sat down next to him. He draped his arm over her shoulder, and she smiled at him. Crookshanks leaped up into her lap, and started purring as Hermione absentmindedly scratched him behind the ears. "Only a couple more weeks until we're back at Hogwarts," she said to no one in particular.

"Wonder who the new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor will be," said Ginny. "Is there even anyone left who will take the job?"

"I'm sure that Dumbledore will find someone," said Harry. "He always does. Just hope it's not someone like Umbridge or Lockhart again."

"Speaking of that, mate," said Ron, "Are you planning on doing the D.A. again this year?"

Harry shrugged. He hadn't really thought all that much about it. "I suppose it depends on who Dumbledore gets. I mean, if we get an Auror, we probably won't need it. If we get someone incompetent like Lockhart or, God forbid, deliberately lousy like Umbridge, then I suppose we can start having meetings again. But we'll have to wait until we get back, and who the professor is. If we do start it up again, I'll see how many people are still interested."

Hermione looked faintly disappointed at that. "So you'll only start it up again if we get an incompetent teacher?"

Harry nodded. "What's the point otherwise? People will probably have other things to do anyway, like Quidditch." He grinned. "I can't wait to play again."

"Wonder who the Captain is?" said Ron. He looked at Harry. "I have a Galleon that says you're it."

"What about Katie?" said Harry. "She's been on the team as long as I have, and she's a seventh year, so she has seniority."

"That's true," said Ron.

"That's all well and good," interrupted Hermione, who looked a little put out at the turn the conversation had taken. "But with all the other things that Harry has to worry about, is Quidditch really that important?"

Harry looked at her, not knowing what to say. Ginny, who was sitting next to him, was also looking at Hermione in astonishment. Ron looked completely gobsmacked. "Quidditch not important?" he choked out.

"Well, it takes away from time that you could use to study!" Hermione said, her voice a little higher than normal. Ron just shook his head, apparently not deigning to respond to such base ignorance.

"I think we all need something to take our mind off what's out there," said Ginny. "After all, all work and no play makes Harry a dull boy." She grinned at him, and he grinned back.

Hermione rolled her eyes, and muttered something that Harry didn't catch, but that he was sure was sarcastic and disapproving.

** *

The next three weeks passed quickly. Harry spent a great deal of time reading the book that Hermione had gotten him. As a result, he had added several nasty curses and hexes to his arsenal, including the ever useful Battering Curse and the lightning spell that he'd accidentally zapped Ron with. He'd also learned how to properly cast a Percussion Hex (his wand twist had been a little too exaggerated), as well as a more powerful version of the Reductor Curse called the Detonator Curse, which could be potentially deadly.

The rest of his time was spent with Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. He'd never spent as much time with Ginny as he had this summer, and Harry was realizing that he had some interest in Ginny beyond just that of a friend. But Hermione had told him that she had long since gotten over him, and he remembered that she'd gone out with Michael Corner for most of last year, and then with Dean Thomas for all of about three weeks. In his more reflective moments, Harry wondered how Ron would react if he and Ginny started dating. He suspected that Ron would be in two minds—if Ron would trust anyone with Ginny, it would be him—but Ron would also be his usual protective self, which would not only be twice as annoying since it would be Harry on the receiving end, but might lead to a conflict. Harry didn't want to even think about that. The breach with Ron in his fourth year was still a painful memory, and not something he wanted to experience again in this lifetime.

The four of them spent a great deal of time playing Quidditch out in the makeshift pitch. Ron's Keeping skills were steadily improving and Ginny's skills as a Chaser were some of the best Harry had ever seen. Even Hermione, once she started to get over her fear of flying, improved a little, though she was still the worst player by far.

Ginny was very fond of Artemis, who had taken to following her owner everywhere, and sleeping curled up on her bed. Artemis also got on well with each person and animal in the household, even Pigwidgeon. Crookshanks seemed to regard her as a sort of protege to be trained in the ways of the cat.

September 1st arrived, and everyone woke up early, yet somehow with not enough time to do what was left. Every time Harry checked his trunk, something else was missing, and he barely had time to eat breakfast by the time he managed to get all of his things together. Ron wolfed down his breakfast so fast that Harry seriously doubted that his friend had any idea what he'd eaten, and later suspected that Ron, in his haste, had accidentally eaten part of the bouquet of wildflowers on the kitchen table.

Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, their animals, Mrs. Weasley, Mr. Weasley, and their Order escort of Tonks, Lupin, and Moody all clambered onto the Knight Bus, making for a rather tight fit on the top level of the triple-decked bus. Mercifully, they were the only party on board, as it had shown up half an hour late and they arrived at King's Cross with barely fifteen minutes to spare. It took them ten minutes to get unloaded and through the barrier at Platform 9¾, and the four of them made straight for the train, which gave its first warning whistle. Right before he got on the train, Mr. Weasley caught up to Harry and pulled him aside. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny stopped as well, but Harry waved them onwards after handing Hedwig to Ron.

"Harry," Mr. Weasley began. "I've heard some things around the Ministry about Dolores Umbridge's trial It's being held sometime within the next two weeks. I've already notified Dumbledore about it, since you'll almost certainly be called on to give evidence. Don't let on about that, though, since Fudge still wants Dumbledore kept in the dark as much as possible. When you have to go, Dumbledore has already agreed to send a guard with you." He hesitated for a moment. "Harry, I know what you saw in Knockturn Alley between Umbridge and Lucius Malfoy, and I want you to consider telling the Wizengamot about it. I know your history with Umbridge, and I know her personally, and as much as she might deserve a few years in Azkaban, she's far more dangerous to you under the Imperius Curse. If the Ministry knows she's under it, they can take steps to isolate her and possibly remove it, or help her throw it off."

Harry thought about that. Umbridge certainly deserved to be in Azkaban, but he felt it was unlikely that she would wind up there anyway, and if the Ministry knew she was under the Imperius Curse, she could be watched. He was about to say something when the Hogwarts Express gave a warning whistle, and Mr. Weasley quickly pulled out his wand and cast a Featherweight Charm on Harry's trunk. "Thanks, Mr. Weasley," he said quickly, then started running for the train. "And I'll think about what you said!" he shouted over his shoulder.

He dashed towards the train, which gave a slight lurch, then slowly started forward. His trunk was thumping madly against the platform, and he was incredibly grateful that Ron had had the foresight to take Hedwig from him when her father had asked to speak to him. He jumped onto the train, pulling his trunk behind him, and promptly slammed into a wall as the train gave another lurch and started to pick up speed.

Harry righted himself and shook his head to clear it, then started towards the back of the train, looking for his friends. He headed on down the train, glancing into each compartment, to no avail.

Finally, in the last car, he found Ginny, who had Hedwig's cage with her, along with Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood. He opened the door, and they turned as one to see who it was. Ginny and Neville smiled at him, while Luna looked at him oddly, one eyebrow slightly cocked. Harry sat next to Ginny and across from Luna, who was still looking at him.

"Ron and Hermione had to run up to the Prefect's car," Ginny whispered. "I took Hedwig."

"Thanks," he whispered back. "Hey, Neville, Luna," he said in greeting.

"Look at this!" Neville burst out, pulling out a wand. It was much shinier than his old wand, Harry noticed. "Gran was amazed at what we did in the Department of Mysteries, and she bought me a new wand! Chestnut and phoenix tail, and it's ten and a half inches long."

"That's great, Neville," said Harry. "So she wasn't mad at all about it?"

"No, not at all," he replied, sounding slightly bemused. "I thought she was going to kill me for breaking my dad's old wand, but she took me to Ollivander's as soon as we'd returned, and picked it up. And I have to thank you Harry," he added quite seriously.

"For what?" Harry asked, taken aback. What had he done besides lead Neville into a potentially deadly fight with Death Eaters and get him hit with the Cruciatus Curse?

"For the D.A.," he said simply. "Thanks to you, I got an O on my Defense O.W.L.!"

"That's great!" Harry said. "You were really doing well there," he said. "Any other Os?"

"Well, Herbology..." Harry nodded. He'd been expecting that, and said so. Neville blushed. "Gran was really pleased with my results, especially in Defense. She wasn't expecting that one."

"Are you aware, Harry," said Luna quite suddenly, "that your aura has changed?"

Harry turned to look at her. She looked quite serious, her odd silvery eyes focused intently on him. "Come again?" he said, for lack of anything better.

"Your aura has changed," she said again. "It used to be a sort of reddish-blue, but now it's got a bit of white and black in it. It's brighter, too."

"Oh," said Harry, not entirely sure of how to respond to this. "That's...erm...interesting."

"Just thought you should know," said Luna, and picked up her ubiquitous Quibbler, upside-down as usual.

The train ride was pleasant at first. He, Ginny, and Neville talked about a number of things. Harry filled them in on what had happened in Diagon Alley, while Neville told them about some of the things he'd heard from his grandmother, who was obviously a well-known and well-respected member of the community.

"According to Gran," Neville said, "there are some scary rumors coming out of the Ministry. She reckons that Fudge is in way over his head, and he's willing to do whatever it takes to convince everyone that things are in hand. And the attacks have everyone worried," he added. While Harry had been at the Burrow, he'd made a point of avoiding any newspaper reports on Death Eater attacks, and though his scar pains had been mercifully rare, and he'd had no more visions, he'd known that Voldemort wouldn't be idle.

"What has he attacked?" he asked.

"Well," said Neville, looking slightly surprised that Harry didn't know, "after his failed attack on Diagon Alley, he's started targeting members of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement directly. Madam Bones was attacked a week ago, but she made it out, and took a couple Death Eaters out in the process."

Harry remembered the iron-haired, no-nonsense witch who'd been at his hearing last summer, and shook her head. "She must be a powerful witch," he said.

"She is," Neville assured him. "She was an Auror at the same time Moody was, though she stayed in the Ministry after she left the Office. They say she was as almost as good as Moody. I guess they worked together a few times during the last war."

Harry raised his eyebrows. Madam Bones was partnered with Moody? He'd have to ask Moody about that sometime; Harry was sure that he would have some good stories.

"Are you planning on doing the D.A. again, Harry?" asked Luna, putting down her magazine.

Harry shrugged. "It depends," he said, and he felt a twinge of guilt as Neville's face fell. "I mean, if we get someone as useless as Lockhart or Umbridge, I'm definitely going to see how many people are interested. But if we have a good teacher, probably not."

"Any idea who the Defense professor will be?" asked Neville hopefully, and Harry shrugged again.

"No idea, but I suppose we'll find out in a few hours."

Then the door opened, and Ron and Hermione came in.

"That was quick," said Harry, surprised. Last year they had taken much longer to finish the prefect meeting. Ron sat down next to Harry, and Hermione sat down across from Ron.

"Still too long to me," said Ron. "I hate those bloody things. But at least we don't have to lead the first years around by the nose any more. Fancy a game of chess?"

"Sure," said Harry, eager for something to do. It was strange: no matter how many times he'd lost to Ron, he never tired of playing with him.

Ron dug his chess set out of his trunk. "Budge up, mate," he said to Neville, and Neville moved to sit next to Harry while Ron took his place. He absentmindedly put his arm around Hermione, who turned slightly pink. Neville looked at Harry questioningly as Ron started setting up the board, but didn't say anything.

They had just started to play when there was a burning sensation on Harry's hand. "Ouch!" he said, grabbing his right ring finger, where his father's ring was Disillusioned. Five sets of eyes stared at him, and he felt himself flushing slightly. "My ring is hot," he said, and Hermione, Ron, and Ginny's expressions turned into a look of understanding, while Neville looked confused. Luna looked as spaced out as usual and gave no indication that Harry had done anything out of the ordinary.

"But who could be nearby that wants to hurt you?" asked Hermione anxiously, then shook her head. "Malfoy. Sorry, Harry. Stupid question."

"Wands out?" asked Ron.

"Reckon so," said Harry, and pulled his wand out of his pocket. The other five followed suit, though Neville still looked confused.

Sure enough, a moment later, Draco Malfoy pulled the door to their compartment open, flanked as usual by Crabbe and Goyle. His cold pale eyes quickly took in the scene, lingering for a moment at Ron's arm around Hermione. Then they widened in surprise as he realized that everyone in the compartment had a wand out and pointed at him. Harry saw this with a sense of deep satisfaction, and was even more satisfied to see a glimmer of fear in his eyes.

"What d'you want, Malfoy?" he asked in as calm a voice as he could muster; under the surface, he was coiled tight for action, a Battering Curse on the tip of his tongue. _Just give me an excuse, Malfoy, any excuse..._

"Just to warn you, Potter," Malfoy said in a would-be menacing tone, but it wasn't entirely convincing. Harry raised his eyebrows.

"Oh, yeah?" he said in the same calm voice, trying to figure out what Malfoy was up to. "Well, that's right nice of you, but I think I'll manage to blunder on without your help. So how's your dad doing?" he added, and grinned internally at the look of impotent rage that distorted Malfoy's features.

"He's out and looking for you, Potter," snarled Malfoy, losing his self-control in the face of Harry's unusual serenity. For his part, Harry found it was much easier to keep his temper when he was doing the goading instead of taking it.

"I'm trembling in my shoes," Harry said dryly, and Ron laughed derisively.

"I see the Weasel's found himself a Mudblood," sneered Malfoy, changing the subject and deciding to needle Ron. Ron's ears went bright red, and Harry quickly made sure that he wasn't in a direct line between Ron's wand and Malfoy, but Hermione laid a hand on his arm, and Ron restrained himself. Malfoy smirked. "Finally learned not to insult your betters, Weasley? Well done."

"Did you want to talk or did you just come to irritate us?" asked Ginny tiredly.

"Just watch out, Potter. Aunt Bellatrix is looking for you. She's just dying to meet you, actually. Said she'd do to you what she did to your useless godfather." He laughed. "How stupid can you be to take a spell in front of the Veil? Blood traitor scum got what he deserved."

Harry felt his serenity evaporate in the face of a hot surge of rage, and before he could stop himself, he'd hit Malfoy with a Battering Curse. There was a bright flash of blue light, and Malfoy was blasted out of the doorway, and hit the far wall with a painful-sounding crunch, before dropping to the floor. He looked up at Harry, who was momentarily surprised at the malice burning in the other's eyes. "You'll pay _dearly_ for that, Potter," he whispered, voice full of hatred. He picked himself up and stalked off, Crabbe and Goyle following after a moment, looking utterly flabbergasted.

Harry closed the compartment door, a savage pleasure coursing through him. Then he noticed, when he turned around, that Ron, Hermione, Neville, and Ginny were staring at him, gaping, really, and Luna had put down her magazine. "What?" he asked, wondering what their problem was.

"Harry," said Hermione faintly, "you weren't holding your wand when you cast that."

"What?" said Harry, utterly confused. "What _are _you talking about?" he asked, looking down to see that his wand was grasped firmly in his right hand, as it always was. "It's right here," he said, holding it up. Then he noticed that it seemed a little short, and the end was charred and smoking. He looked closer. Inscribed in fine gold letters was the logo of Weasley Wizard Wheezes. "No way," he said. How had he managed to cast through this wand? Judging by the way it had destroyed it, it certainly wasn't made to be used for serious magic.

"You must have grabbed one of Fred and George's wands by mistake," said Hermione, still sounding faint. "I wanted to warn you; I saw the logo, but Malfoy came in right after." She gave a shaky laugh. "I guess it didn't matter, anyway."

"You did wandless magic, Harry," said Ron, sounding awed. "And you didn't even say the incantation."

"And right before you cast it," added Neville, "the air kind of started to get...I don't know, warm, I suppose... Actually," he said, thoughtfully, "it was kind of like what I felt near Dumbledore at the Ministry last June."

Harry stood numbly. He knew precisely what Neville was talking about: that indefinable aura of tremendous power that Dumbledore gave off on rare occasions, when his powers were in full bloom.

"You felt like you were giving off heat," said Ginny.

"I told you that your aura was brighter, Harry," said Luna calmly, as though discussing the weather. "Clearly, that corresponds to an increase in your magical power."

But a horrible realization was starting to come over Harry. "Where's my wand?" he said, starting to worry. What if he'd left it behind? He pulled his trunk off the rack, barely missing Ron's head, and started frantically digging through it. He found a bag in which he'd stowed Fred and George's gift. Among the various pranks were several fake wands. He picked each of them up and examined them in turn. Then, there was one that didn't have the tiny gold W.W.W. logo on it, and he pulled it out. Harry heaved a sigh of relief. It was his wand, all right. Just to make sure, he pointed it at Ron, and muttered, "_Wingardium Leviosa!_"

Immediately, Ron rose up to hover a foot and a half above the seat. He gave Harry a long-suffering look. "Okay, it's your wand, Harry. Mind letting me down?"

Harry nodded and raised his wand, and Ron fell back down with a thump.

"But _how _did you do that, Harry?" asked Hermione, obviously not wanting to give up the discussion on Harry's sudden wandless magic.

"I don't know," he replied, shrugging. "I was just really angry, and I wanted to get him out, and I was getting ready to use that curse in case he decided he wanted trouble."  
"You should talk to Professor Dumbledore about it," Hermione persisted, and Harry restrained a sigh.

"All right," he said, more to get her off his back than anything else. "I'll tell him at our first lesson."

The rest of the ride was uneventful. Harry lost three games of chess to Ron, then won an Exploding Snap tournament that ended with all of the hair on Ron's forearms burned off and Harry's eyebrows slightly singed. Finally, as it started to grow dark, Ginny said, "We should probably get our robes on. We're almost there."

Harry looked out the window. Through the gathering darkness, he could see the faint outline of Hogwarts, sitting proud on the cliff above the lake, and the sight of the place he considered home more than anywhere else (except maybe the Burrow) sent a wave of peace over him. He was back at Hogwarts once more.


	9. Chapter 9

IX.

Darius Vance

Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville, and Luna all clambered off the train onto the platform. All around them, students milled, chatting and waving to their friends that they hadn't seen all summer. Over on one corner of the platform, easily visible above the crowds (as he was about twelve feet tall) was Hagrid, and he waved as he saw Harry and his friends.

"All righ', Harry?" he shouted. "Firs' years over here!"

A crowd of short students went over to Hagrid, their faces nervous and excited in the glow of his lantern.

Harry waved back to Hagrid as he joined the other five in climbing into one of the thestral-drawn carriages. The skeletal horses still sent a shiver down his spine, but he remembered how useful they were in getting to the Ministry last June. _Of course, maybe it would have been better if they hadn't,_ Harry thought glumly, his stomach clenching a little.

The carriages brought them right up to the gates of the castle, where they disembarked and trooped up to the front doors, inside, and straight through to the Great Hall.

The Great Hall was resplendent as usual, the golden light of a thousand candles illuminating it. They bade goodbye to Luna as she headed over to the Ravenclaw table. Harry sat down at the Gryffindor table, across from Neville, and between Ron and Ginny. Hermione was on Ron's other side, her neck already craned to try to catch a glimpse of an unfamiliar face up at the High Table.

Harry looked up at the High Table. There, in the center, as he'd always been (and probably always would be) was Professor Dumbledore, his silver hair and beard shining brightly in the candlelight. He looked the same as he always did: peaceful, serene, and a slight twinkle in his bright blue eyes. He caught Harry's gaze and winked, and Harry grinned back. On Dumbledore's right was an empty chair Harry assumed was for Professor McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress, Professor of Transfiguration, and the strict, no-nonsense Head of Gryffindor House. Further down was Professor Flitwick, who was talking cheerfully to Professor Sprout. On Dumbledore's other side (and making Harry want to snarl) was Professor Snape, his long black hair falling in greasy curtains on either side of his face. And further down...

Next to Snape was a familiar looking man. His long red hair fell neatly down past his shoulders, and his sharp features were calm. A pair of mossy green eyes swept slowly over the assembled students, searching, Harry thought, for threats. He knew that face, he'd seen it before...

"That's Darius Vance," said Hermione. "He's the Auror that Tonks introduced us to in Diagon Alley, remember?"

"An Auror for a Professor?" said Ron. He turned to Harry. "Guess we won't be needing the D.A. this year, eh?"

"Probably not," said Harry, and he felt both slightly disappointed and slightly relieved. He looked back up at Vance, and then at Snape, expecting to see a look of loathing directed at the new Professor. Everyone knew that Snape had had his eye on the Defense Against the Dark Arts position for years. Oddly, though, Snape wasn't even looking at Vance, who was now talking to Professor Sinistra. In fact, Harry rather thought, as he watched Snape a little longer, that the Potions Professor seemed to be avoiding even looking at Vance.

Ginny and Hermione noticed it too, and Ginny whispered to Harry, "Is he afraid of Vance, or something? He doesn't even want to look at him." Harry shrugged.

Then the door to the Great Hall opened, and Professor McGonagall led the new first years in. Up at the High Table, Hagrid was trying and failing miserably at sitting down quietly. Waving at his giant friend, Harry turned back to the first years, who were looking utterly terrified now. Up ahead, the Sorting Hat burst into song.

_Let me tell you a story of long ago,_

_Of how Hogwarts came to be,_

_When I was but a simple hat,_

_When there were four instead of three._

_Yes, four great sorcerers came here,_

_With learning to instill_

_Built the school in which we sit,_

_Upon this lonely hill._

_First was intrepid Gryffindor,_

_The bravest of them all,_

_He looked for those whose courage,_

_Would surely never fall._

_Next was cunning Slytherin,_

_With his sly shrewd mind,_

_Who sought those of great ambition,_

_And were purest of our kind._

_And then came brilliant Ravenclaw,_

_The wisest in the land,_

_Who thought those of great acumen,_

_Most worthy of her hand._

_Last was gentle Hufflepuff,_

_The just, the fair, the true,_

_Who took those of any kind,_

_And taught them all she knew._

_So they created Hogwarts School,_

_Teaching those they found,_

_'Til hatred reared its ugly head, _

_And nearly burned it to the ground._

_And now dark days are here again,_

_And I urge you to take care,_

_The Dark Lord rises to consume us,_

_You all must be aware._

_So now I'll split you once again,_

_As I've done for ages past._

_Though I fear it's wrong to do,_

_I must perform my task._

_In Gryffindor you'll find yourself,_

_If you're brave and strong of heart,_

_But brave deeds alone will not prevent,_

_The world being torn apart._

_In Ravenclaw I'll put you,_

_If to know is what you crave,_

_But knowledge alone won't save you,_

_From ending up in the grave._

_To Hufflepuff you'll be sent_

_If you're diligent and true_

_But not everyone's as loyal_

_Or as dependable as you._

_And Slytherin, oh, Slytherin_

_Ambition and cunning are your tools_

_But remember that you're set apart_

_By your ancient, foolish rules._

_So again I must divide you all,_

_Though still I fear it's wrong_

_And that your disunity and mistrust,_

_Mean that Hogwarts can't stand strong._

_So step right up and put me on,_

_But remember what I've said,,_

_That rivalry between the four,_

_May leave you all for dead._

Dead silence met the Hat's latest song.

"Blimey," whispered Ron. "The hat hasn't gotten any more optimistic, is it?" Harry agreed. Now that the initial shock had passed, whispering was breaking out all over the Great Hall. Professor McGonagall glared at the tables, threats of detention or worse in her eyes, and it subsided. She glanced at the parchment in her hands.

"Anderson, William!"

A short, brown haired boy walked up to the Hat, his face pale but features calm, and pulled it over his head.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Harry and everyone else at the Gryffindor table burst into applause for William Anderson as he took off the hat and walked over to join his new housemates.

"Brennan, Sean!" A boy with hair as red as Ron's went up to the Hat and pulled it on.

"RAVENCLAW!"

"Chithra, Hiral!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

Harry tuned out the Sorting, applauding absentmindedly whenever he happened to hear the Hat call out Gryffindor. Instead of watching, he surreptitiously observed the new Defense Against the Dark Artsprofessor. Vance sat calmly, still slowly scanning the audience as though for threats. Harry supposed that all Aurors were probably rather paranoid; at least he wasn't as blatant about it as Moody was. Sitting up there, surveying the crowd, Vance reminded Harry of nothing so much as a red-headed bird of prey, watching over his territory.

Finally, with the Sorting of "Xavier, Charles" into Ravenclaw, the empty tables in front of the students suddenly blossomed with huge platters of nearly anything anyone could ever want to eat. Ron had already started filling his plate, and Harry, not wanting Ron to take it all, started spooning some potatoes onto his plate, then added a large, rare steak.

"Sohezz th'noo perfuzzr, huh?" said Ron through a mouthful of chicken-and-ham pie.

"One more time?" said Harry, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. Hermione didn't say anything, but smacked Ron's arm.

He winced, swallowed his food and said, "So he's the new professor, huh?"

"Yeah," said Harry. "Has your dad or anyone said anything about him?"

Ron picked up a drumstick and started chewing on it in a thoughtful way. "Come to think of it, I reckon I _did _pick up a couple things. I guess Bill had occasion to work with him in the Order a couple times. Bill said that he's a odd bloke, but good to have in a fight." Finished with the drumstick, he put the bone down on his plate and picked up another one. "I guess they got to talking, and Vance was a few years ahead of your parents in Gryffindor."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Wonder if they knew each other?"

"I think Bill said he did. Helped your dad out a few times, apparently."

"Did Bill know if he was in the Order in the first war?" asked Harry.

Ron thought for a moment, then said, "I'm not sure, but I think that he was. Bill didn't say what happened to him, though."

Harry looked back up at Vance. He happened to catch the new professor's eye, just as Vance was scanning the Gryffindor table. For a split second, there was a mental push into his mind, and then, as Harry tried to use the little Occlumency he had, it stopped, and Vance quirked an eyebrow at him momentarily, then continued onward. Harry felt his eyebrows rise.

"That's interesting," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

"What's interesting?" asked Hermione.

"Professor Vance. He's a Legilimens," said Harry, and Hermione's eyes widened.

"Are you sure?"

"Almost positive," he said. "I looked at him just as he was looking at me, and I felt a--" Harry paused a moment, trying to figure out what it was he'd felt. "A push, I suppose, but on my mind. It's a weird feeling," he added, rubbing his head slightly. "Then I tried to use my Occlumency against it, and it stopped."

"So that's why he's scanning the crowd," said Hermione thoughtfully. "He's sampling our thoughts."

"That's a little creepy," said Ron, through a mouthful of green beans.

"He's an Auror," said Hermione. "I think they're all paranoid. At least he's not as blatant about it as Moody is."

Harry laughed. Moody was notorious, even at Headquarters and the Burrow, for carefully examining everything he was given and occasionally subjecting it to a quick but thorough course of countercurses. Then, of course, there was the ever-present flask and his legendary paranoia about food, something which Mrs. Weasley in particular disapproved of, given that it was often her cooking that he inspected.

The dinner platters disappeared, and Harry managed to put the thoughts of their new professor out of his head as he sampled some of the delicacies on the table. He started a conversation with Ginny on who the new Quidditch captain was going to be—Harry thought it would be Katie Bell, who was now the senior member of the team, but Ginny thought it would be him, and Harry had to admit that he liked the idea, though as a Seeker, he'd always been by himself.

"Come on, Ginny," he'd said. "Katie's been on the team longest, and she's the most senior player."

"Yeah, but you're bloody brilliant out there," Ginny shot back. "When was the last time, barring dementors, that you lost a game?"

"Well, never..." Harry had to admit.

"And you were the youngest player in a century on the team, right?"

"Yeah, but..."

"So don't sell yourself short, Harry," she said, her face quite serious. "You're an excellent player."

Harry was saved thinking of a reply to that by Professor Dumbledore standing up and raising his arms. The conversation in the Great Hall died away immediately. He beamed at the crowd, his bright blue eyes twinkling, and Harry felt himself relax slightly. Despite all that Harry had been through and seen in the last year, Dumbledore's familiar presence at the feast was somehow soothing. If nothing else, Harry knew that he could count on Dumbledore to be in his golden throne at the High Table at the start of every year.

"Now that we have all enjoyed our most excellent feast, I have the traditional start-of-term announcements," he began.

"First, I would like to introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, Mr. Darius Vance."

There was a smattering of lukewarm applause as Vance stood up, smiled briefly, and sat down.

"Professor Vance is one of the more senior Aurors at the Ministry, and has expressed interest in teaching once he retires.

"Mr. Filch would also like me to remind you all that magic is still not permitted in the hallways, and that any item purchased, manufactured, or in any way connected to Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes in the past, present or future is banned." Harry, Ron and Ginny grinned, while Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Our first years should know that the Forbidden Forest is off limits to all students. _All _students," he added, with emphasis, though his eyes still twinkled as they flickered over to Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Harry fought back a grin.

"Quidditch trials will be held this Saturday, so if anyone is interested in playing for their House team, contact Madam Hooch or your House captain. And, I think that is all, so I will now wish you all a good night, and here's to a new year at Hogwarts." He raised his goblet slightly at the students' departing backs.

Harry had just gone into the entrance hall towards the staircase, trailing with Ginny behind Ron and Hermione, who were walking rather close together. He was a bit sleepy from the feast, and was thinking vaguely about Quidditch when he felt a hand on his shoulder, and turned around to find Professor Dumbledore standing behind him, with Professor Vance in tow.

"Excuse me, Harry, but I would like to speak to you for a moment about our lessons," said Dumbledore pleasantly. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny had stopped, and Harry waved them on.

"Go on, I'll be up," he said. Waiting until they were out of earshot, he turned to Vance. Up close, he could see that the Auror had a grim, almost hawk-like face. Harry wouldn't put him past forty, but the look in his eyes and the scars and lines in his face were those of someone who had seen and walked through hell. "You're a Legilimens," he said shortly, trying to keep his voice neutral. On the one hand, he could understand why Vance did what he did, but on the other, it was still invasive, and given the way Snape had conducted his lessons last year, Harry did not like the idea of someone poking around in his head.

"S'right, Potter. And it's damn useful, I can tell you that," Vance said. "Anyway, I just wanted to apologize if I startled you in there. Habit, you know. It's almost second nature, to at least get a quick sampling of a person. Helps a lot in the field, as you can probably imagine. Most people don't notice it, or, if they do, don't know what it is. You've had some training in Occlumency if you could sense it and recognize it. Sorry if I alarmed you, Potter. But better safe than dead, eh? 'S what I always say, anyway." He chuckled to himself, then gave Harry a hearty slap on the back and walked briskly off to do whatever it was new professors did after the start-of-term feast.

"Bit of a character, isn't he, Harry?" said Dumbledore, and Harry nodded before he could stop himself. Dumbledore smiled. "Most Aurors are, in one way or another. It's just one way they have of dealing with the stress of the job."

"Stress of the job?" said Harry, a little puzzled. Sure, it had to be stressful being an Auror, but using Legilimency on everyone he met?

"Being an Auror is both very difficult work, and a very special calling," said Dumbledore. "It takes a very specific kind of person, a person with strong magical powers, and the willingness to use those powers against others to defend the greater good. If you were to go to Auror headquarters right now, and ask how many of them had personally lost someone to Voldemort, or his Death Eaters, or another Dark wizard, the answer would be all of them. In short, it takes a person who is willing to kill or maim to defend others, and that is the main reason why the Aurors haven't taken on anyone new for some time now. Having the grades is one thing. Having the ability to deal with some of the things you see, and some of the things you'll have to do is something else entirely. That is why Alastor Moody is so paranoid, why Kingsley Shacklebolt refuses to go anywhere without his wand, and why Nymphadora Tonks so steadfastedly refuses to act like the talented and dangerous witch she is."

"Is that why they have all those aptitude tests and such?" asked Harry. He was a little taken aback. He honestly didn't know that much about the Aurors, save that they were Dark wizard catchers, and the academic requirements for becoming one were quite stringent.

"Indeed it is, Harry. You have to be willing and able to use deadly force with or without provocation."

Harry hesitated for a moment. "Professor, do you think I have the temperament to be an Auror?"

Dumbledore smiled sadly. "I think you have it in spades, Harry." He cleared his throat. "Now, I think it is time for you to head up to Gryffindor Tower, and to bed. I would like to see you in my office Wednesday night after dinner for your first lesson. The password will be _Blood Pops_."

Harry nodded. "Good night, sir," he said, and Dumbledore nodded in return.

"Good night, Harry."

** *

As Harry lay in his bed that night, he thought about what Dumbledore had told him about the Aurors. He didn't think he had particularly strong magical powers (though the mystery of what happened on the train and the accidents he'd had over the summer were making him wonder) and he still felt a little ill when he thought about what the Prophecy required him to do. Then he remembered his failed attempt at the Killing Curse, and shuddered a bit. If he couldn't use that, how could he kill someone? Being an Auror had been the only thing he'd ever really considered for himself after Hogwarts, and now he was having doubts about his ability to be one. Assuming Harry's grades were good enough, did he really have the temperament, despite what Dumbledore thought? He rolled over, trying to clear his mind the way Dumbledore had taught him to, but Ron's snores from the next bed and his own dark thoughts were distracting him. Finally, he drifted off, though his sleep was uneasy.

He woke up later than usual with a nasty headache; when he opened his curtains, he saw that Ron was already awake and half-dressed. Since Ron habitually overslept, Harry figured that he'd better get a move on. He jumped out of bed, ignoring as best he could the throbbing in his head. For once, it seemed to be a normal headache, not connected to his scar or Voldemort in anyway. He pulled on his clothes and robes as fast as he could, then headed downstairs with Ron, who seemed to intuit Harry's headache and consequent desire for quiet, and didn't say anything aside from a subdued "Morning."

The two of them arrived in the Great Hall to find Hermione already halfway through her breakfast. She gave Ron a good morning peck on the cheek, then promptly went back to reading the Arithmancy textbook she had propped up against a jug of milk. Out of idle curiosity, Harry took a glance over her shoulder at the book, and saw a very complicated diagram with a large caption. The diagram included several circles, other odd geometric shapes, and a great deal of runes. It only served to magnify his headache, and he sat down on her other side (Ron had taken one of them) and put his head in his hands, thinking that maybe if he got a chance, he'd head over to the Infirmary to get something from Madam Pomfrey.

"You all right, Harry?" Ginny asked, sitting down next to him.

"Headache," he muttered, not really wanting to talk, because loud sounds were making it worse.

At that, Hermione dragged her attention away from her book and looked at him, concerned. "Is it your scar?" she asked, obviously worried.

"No," said Harry, massaging his temples to see if that would have any effect. It didn't, and he gave it up as a bad job. "Just an ordinary headache." He chuckled dryly, then wished he hadn't. "It might be my first one."

She patted him on the back sympathetically, then turned to rummage in her bag for a moment. When she came up, she opened a small bottle of Panadol and put two of the pills in front of him. "Here, these should help."

"Thanks," he said, but before he could toss them down, Ron reached over and grabbed them.

"What are these things?" he asked, poking one with his finger.

"Paracetamol," Hermione responded.

"What?" said Ron, confused.

"Paraacetylaminophenol," she said, and Harry looked at her.

"Now you've got me confused," said Harry dryly. "I thought it was Panadol."

Ron and Ginny were both looking at them oddly now. Hermione sighed. "That's what the chemical in it is called. It's a Muggle medicine," she added for Ron and Ginny's benefit.

"Oh," said Ginny, and turned back to her eggs. Harry took the pills back from Ron, who was now holding them up to the light from the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall, and downed them with some orange juice.

"I always carry a bottle around with me," said Hermione. "You know, in case I'm in class and I can't get to Madam Pomfrey for a potion. It holds off headaches and stuff pretty well."

Ron muttered something that Harry didn't catch, but Hermione obviously did.

"Just because I don't look for the smallest excuse to skive off class to go see Madam Pomfrey doesn't mean I'm mad, Ronald!" she said waspishly, and Harry saw Ron roll his eyes.

He could sense a fight brewing, and didn't want to deal with it until the Panadol started working. Ron and Hermione's fights were less common and shorter now that they were actually dating, but they still fought hard. Searching for a distraction, he tapped Hermione on the shoulder just as she was about to open her mouth again, and said, "How long does this stuff take to work, anyway?"

She turned away from Ron, and Harry breathed a sigh of relief that he'd managed to delay the fight, at least. "Give it fifteen or twenty minutes," she said after a moment.

"That long?" asked Ginny, who had obviously picked up on the impeding argument and wanted to forestall it too.

"Well, for Muggle medicine to work," began Hermione, starting to use what Harry always thought of as her lecturing voice, "it has to get into your bloodstream. So for the pills to work on Harry, they have to dissolve in his stomach and the medicine has to be absorbed, which takes time. Since Harry overslept this morning, he doesn't have time to get to the Infirmary."

"Well, why do potions work immediately?" Ginny pressed, and Harry hid a grin.

"Potions hold spells," Hermione said. "That's why they act immediately—as soon as you swallow it, the spell activates. That's also why you generally only have to take a potion once—the spell will cure whatever the ailment is, unless..." She continued on in this vein, but Harry tuned it out once he realized that he'd managed to derail the argument. He caught Ginny's eye and mouthed, "Thanks" to her. She smiled at him, and and his stomach felt for a moment like he'd just taken a dive on his broom.

Ron interrupted Hermione's monologue on the differences between Muggle and Wizarding medicine by the simple expedient of pointing down the table, and saying, "Looks like McGonagall's passing out the schedules." Hermione stopped speaking immediately.

Professor McGonagall handed Harry his schedule. "Well done on your O.W.L.s, Potter," she said, giving him a rare smile. "I'm gratified to see that you took our career consultation last year seriously. I'll be pleased to provide any further help that you need to become an Auror." She lowered her voice. "After all, I did make that promise last year, and I'm a witch of my word, Potter. So keep up the good work." He nodded and smiled his thanks at her, and she went on to Hermione.

Harry looked at his schedule and his mood improved slightly. Today looked pretty good, considering it was a Monday. First on the schedule was double Defense Against the Dark Arts, which Harry was quite looking forward to, especially since an Auror would be teaching them. After that was Care of Magical Creatures. Though Harry was a little apprehensive about exactly what sort of magical creatures Hagrid would find for them, at least he'd get to see Hagrid again. After that, he had lunch, then a break, and then, to his slight dismay, Potions, which at least wasn't a double. The double had been mercifully held off until Wednesday.

"Wicked!" said Ron. "Only two classes today, and they're good ones." Hermione glared at him, and Harry took a look at her schedule. No breaks for her at all, instead, she had N.E.W.T. Arithmancy.

The bell rang, signaling the beginning of morning classes, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione all got up from the table and trouped off to Defense Against the Dark Arts, while Ginny went off to Transfiguration.


	10. Chapter 10

X.

Of Unforgivables and Fwoopers

They walked into the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, which had undergone many different decors, ranging from very interesting and useful (Professor Lupin) to repulsive (Professor Umbridge) to downright ridiculous (Professor Lockhart). This time, it was very simple and utilitarian: there were no stupid kittens on the wall, nor did Professor Vance have a large number of pictures of himself. Instead, the walls were almost completely unadorned, save for a few large pieces of parchment covered in small writing, with titles like "Handy Hints for Duels" and "Commonly Used Hexes and their Counters."

Harry and Hermione led a protesting Ron up to the front row, and managed to prod him into a seat. They'd arrived a few minutes early, and the room was still mostly empty, although Harry waved at a few former D.A. members: Terry Boot, Anthony Goldstein, and Susan Bones. Other students began filtering in before the bell rang; by the time it did, Harry was gratified to see that every single person in the D.A. who'd taken the O.W.L. exam in Defense was sitting in that classroom. Neville came up to the three of them, and sat down next to Harry.

"Neville?" said Ron, obviously surprised. He and Hermione hadn't been present when Neville had told Harry about his grades. Hermione elbowed him none too gently, and he shut up.

"Hello, Neville," she said pleasantly. "You must have done well on your Defense O.W.L."

"I got an O!" he said proudly, and she beamed at him and said congratulations, while Ron gaped for a moment, then offered his congratulations as well.

Then the door flew open, and the conversation in the room ceased immediately. Professor Vance walked briskly in, his long red hair free and trailing behind him. Though he was rather on the short side (Harry wouldn't place him above five foot seven or so), he gave off a distinct aura of command that reminded Harry vaguely of Mad-Eye Moody.

When he reached the front of the classroom, Professor Vance turned around and faced the students. "Welcome to N.E.W.T. Defense Against the Dark Arts," he began. His voice was calm and clipped, different from the casual tone Harry had heard him use last night. "First of all, if you're sitting in those chairs, you must have obtained at least an E on the O.W.L. exam for this course. So allow me to extend my congratulations to you for that." He paused for a moment, letting his eyes sweep the classroom, and Harry felt the slight tingle of Legilimency. "However," he said more sharply, "admirable as that achievement may be, you will need to work just as hard, and indeed, harder in this course to maintain the same grades. This will be primarily a practical class, though for today, we'll stick to theory. I will warn you now: _you are likely to be hurt in this class_. Not badly, of course, but enough so that Madam Pomfrey will surely cluck her tongue in dismay whenever she sees me. We'll be practicing dueling with each other, learning how to fight and defend. If you don't think you can take that"—he pointed his wand at the door, and it sprang open—"the door is right there." Another pause. No one moved.

"Very well," he said, waving his wand again. The door slammed shut. "As I said, for the first day, we'll be sticking to theory. It may not seem as interesting as practical matters, but I assure you, it's very important. We'll do a little practical work later this week. Next week, however, we'll begin our practical work seriously, and although there will be theory days, for the most part, you'll be working with your wands. At the end of the term, there will be an exam, and unless you pass it, you will be dropped from the class roster." He waved his wand again, and the door closed.

After a quick call of roll, Professor Vance put down the list of names, and turned back to the blackboard. "Now," he said, "we'll begin the year with an in-depth review of the Unforgivable Curses." A barely noticeable rustle went through the classroom, and Professor Vance turned around, his eyebrows raised. "This is important material. The exam will have a written component to it, and the things you will learn about the curses are things that I guarantee you do not know yet. Now," he continued, turning back to the blackboard, and scrawling a heading ("The Unforgivable Curses"), "can anyone tell me the three of them?"

No one moved for a moment, then Harry raised his hand. He didn't usually volunteer information in class, but he knew this one cold.

Professor Vance nodded at him. "Go on, Potter."

"_Imperio, Crucio, _and _Avada Kedavra_," he said quietly. "The Imperius, Cruciatus, and Killing Curses."

"Excellent, Potter," said Professor Vance, nodding approvingly. "Five points to Gryffindor." He wrote "The Cruciatus Curse" on the board under the heading. "Now, the first curse we'll get into is the Cruciatus Curse. You all know, no doubt, what it does?" A murmur of assent rolled through the classroom, and Professor Vance gave a tight smile. "I thought as much, but are you truly aware of what it _does_?" Silence. "I'm not sure if I should even bother asking this question, but have any of you undergone the Cruciatus Curse?" He looked around the classroom, clearly expecting a negative response.

Harry raised his hand, as did Neville. No one else moved. Professor Vance's eyes widened for a moment, and then he recovered himself.

"Well, if anyone would have, I would have expected you, Potter. That whole thing at the Ministry last spring... Then I expect you two understand, through experience, what it does?"

"Pain," said Neville softly, before Harry could speak. "Pain so bad that you want to die just to end it. Every moment lasts forever, it feels like all your bones are shattering, all your blood is boiling, and shards of glass are being shoved into every bit of skin." He shuddered. Harry did too, thinking that his description was all too apt.

"Another five points to Gryffindor," said Professor Vance. "Yes, Longbottom, an excellent description of the curse's effects. But," he said to the whole class, "are any of you aware of how it works? How it can cause such pain without actually causing any physical harm to the victim?" No one said a word, and he muttered something under his breath, then waved his wand at the board. "It actually works on the same principle as the Imperius Curse, but instead of convincing your brain that everything is just fine, that you should do whatever is asked of you, it convinces your brain that every nerve in your body is reporting excruciating pain. That's why prolonged exposure to the curse will eventually destroy the mind—the brain can only sustain that volume of sensory input for so long before it more or less burns out. The amount of time it takes for this to happen depends on the person."

Harry now saw what Professor Vance had done—his words were being directly transcribed onto the blackboard behind him, and Harry quickly scribbled down what was up there. This was the most interesting Defense lecture he'd had since Barty Crouch, Junior had taught them in the guise of another Auror, Mad-Eye Moody. He looked over at Ron and Hermione. Ron actually looked interested: his eyes were focused on Professor Vance, and he was taking notes; Hermione was gripping her quill so hard it was shaking slightly.

"Now, you're probably wondering what the point of this is," he said, grinning slightly. "Knowing this won't help you block it or dodge it if, God forbid, it's cast on you. But my point is this: the Cruciatus Curse can be thrown off in the exact same manner as the Imperius Curse." There was dead silence in the classroom; each student was hanging on Professor Vance's every word. "It's very, _very _difficult to do, in fact, it's almost impossible. It takes an exceptional amount of willpower and mental strength to fight through the pain. It's even harder to throw off than the Imperius Curse, but you must remember, _it can be done_. Now this is naturally something that we can't practice in the classroom. I don't fancy spending the rest of my life in Azkaban, whether or not the dementors are still there. Even if it was legal, I still wouldn't do it.

"During the first war with Voldemort, the Unforgivable Curses were authorized by special order of the then head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Barty Crouch. I was just a junior Auror then. The favorite curse of Voldemort's Death Eaters wasn't the Killing Curse, it was the Cruciatus Curse. Most Aurors never stooped to using the Cruciatus Curse whether or not they were permitted to. You will never see me use the Cruciatus Curse on a living being.

"So you're probably asking yourselves, what's the point of knowing this? Because it may save someone a lot of pain if they can manage to do it. Just knowing that it's possible to resist may help some of you to do it." He paused for a moment, clearly thinking. "Can any of you resist the Imperius Curse? I was told by Professor Dumbledore that you'd all been put under it."

Again, Harry raised his hand. This time, he was the only one. Professor Vance nodded.

"Then you may find it easier to resist the Cruciatus Curse, Potter. It will be more difficult of course, as you have to focus your mind through the pain and push it away, but it can be done. Now, that covers it for the Cruciatus Curse for today. We'll be skipping over the Imperius Curse. I have permission from the Headmaster to attempt to teach you all to throw it off, but I promised him that I wouldn't cast it until he was here to supervise, so we'll be doing that next lesson. So, let's go straight to the Killing Curse."

The silence in the room seemed to get even louder, and Harry noticed that people were sitting on the edge of their seats now.

A bitter smile twisted Professor Vance's mouth. "Yes, the worst of the Unforgivables, it's called by some. I disagree, myself. In my opinion, the Cruciatus is the worst. Torturing someone to insanity—and worse, enjoying it—is far more evil in my eyes than a quick, painless death. I have never, and will never use the Cruciatus Curse." He paused for a moment, and Harry thought he saw deep within Professor Vance's eyes a hint of pain, but it was gone almost as soon as he saw it. "I have, however, used the Killing Curse on a human being. Three times, as a matter of fact. All Death Eaters. All during the last war.

"Of course, whether or not I've used it is neither here nor there. I'm sure you all know the basic facts: the curse is completely unblockable by magic, and there's no countercurse, no way to undo its effects. But there are non-magical ways to defend yourself against it. I will demonstrate." Professor Vance waved his wand, and a large rock appeared, hovering in mid-air. He stood stock still, staring at the rock for several seconds. Harry noticed that a muscle in his cheek was twitching, and his eyes were cold and filled with hate. Then the professor lifted his wand, pointed it at the rock, and shouted, "_Avada Kedavra!_" Immediately, the all-too-familiar green jet leaped from his wand, and with a loud rushing sound, swept towards the rock. The rock exploded into dust. Professor Vance took several deep breaths, and seemed to steady himself. Harry remembered what Dumbledore had said in the forest during the summer, and he wondered what Professor Vance had been through that he could summon up enough hate to be able to cast the Killing Curse. It also made him slightly suspicious. Dumbledore had also mentioned what kind of people usually were able to cast it.

"I beg your pardon, casting that always takes a lot out of me," said Professor Vance, looking a little pale. He took a few more breaths, then looked up again. "Now, what did you just see, and why is it important? Anyone?" His eyes scanned the classroom again, and Hermione raised her hand. "Miss Granger?"

"The rock blocked the curse, even though it was destroyed by it," she said, looking slightly pale herself.

"Absolutely right, Miss Granger. Five points to Gryffindor. Yes, this is one of the most important things to know about the Killing Curse. It can't be blocked by magical means, but it can easily be blocked by physical means." Harry was struck by a memory—Professor Dumbledore using the golden statues of the Fountain of Magical Brethren to ward off Voldemort's repeated Killing Curses. "Unfortunately, the object you use to block it—unless it's made from an unusually strong material—will be destroyed, so you'll have to find a new one. This is where Conjuring—which you'll learn this year unless they've changed the curriculum since I've been here—will come in handy. So," he said, clapping his hands, "now you know the important things about the Cruciatus and Killing Curses. We got through this faster than I thought, so take out your wands, and we'll begin our practical lesson."

There was an immediate rustle as everyone dug in their bags for their wands and pulled them out.

"Now," said Professor Vance, his tone losing the clipped quality it had while he'd been lecturing, "I was told by Professor Dumbledore that Potter here had taught several of you when that all-sodding cow, Dolores Umbridge, wouldn't do her job right." A few chuckles broke out throughout the room, and Harry couldn't help but smile. "How many of you learned from him?" Several hands raised. "Excellent. I'll keep my eye on you lot. Everyone, pair off and wait." Harry made to go over to Ron, but Professor Vance caught his eye and said, "Potter, you come up here with me."

Harry got up from his seat and walked up to the front of the classroom to stand next to Professor Vance instead. Ron glanced at him, and Harry gave him brief shrug. Ron returned it, then partnered up with Hermione. He looked over at Professor Vance, and was surprised to see that he was taller than the Auror. "How much did you teach them, Potter?" he asked.

"Er..." Harry began, trying to remember what exactly they had covered. "Well, all of them can cast Disarming Charms, Stunners, and Shield Charms." he said. "Some of them managed to learn the Patronus Charm. I remember that Parvati Patil"—he pointed at her, standing across from Lavender Brown—"had a really good Reductor Curse. Most of them know that one, and the Impedimenta Jinx. I don't really remember much more, though I'm sure that some of them know even more than that. And all of them know a bunch of minor hexes and such—you know, Jelly Legs, Furnunculus, and the like."

"Well done, Potter," said Professor Vance, whose eyebrows were raised. He regarded Harry with something akin to respect. "I'm impressed. All right," he said, raising his voice. "We're going to have a little dueling practice right here. The floor and walls have a Padding Charm on them. Bow to your opponents." They did so, and Harry watched with interest. Some of the former D.A. members were partnered up with those that hadn't been in the D.A.; he was quite keen to see how they did. "On three, then," barked Professor Vance. "One, two, _three!_"

The room exploded in spells. Most of the duels ended quickly, especially the former D.A. members against those who hadn't joined. The D.A. members took slightly longer, but they ended quickly except for two duels which were still going hot: Neville versus Ernie Macmillan, and, to Harry's surprise, Ron against Hermione. The rest of the class (except those who were Stunned) gathered in a circle around those two pairs, watching. Neville finally got a Stunner through Ernie's Shield Charm, which left only Ron and Hermione dueling.

Harry was impressed despite himself. He'd expected Hermione to win quickly against Ron, given her almost encyclopedic knowledge of spells and their counters, but Ron seemed to be holding his own. He moved much faster than Hermione, and was more aggressive. Harry watched as they threw some impressive spells at each other: Hermione cast a Battering Curse at Ron, who dived out of the way, and cast a Percussion Hex right back. Hermione blocked it, only to have to quickly move aside to dodge a Stunner, which went past her and hit Dean Thomas, making him slump to the floor, unconscious.

_Where did they learn to fight like that?_ Harry wondered to himself. He wondered if Hermione had gotten herself and Ron the same book she'd gotten him for his birthday. It wouldn't be a bad idea for them to be able to duel, he thought. They seemed to attract as much trouble as he did.

A spell went by his head, sending a flash of warmth over his ear, and Harry turned back to the fight in time to see Hermione, who was looking more and more frustrated—Harry suspected she'd thought the same as he had with regards to Ron—blast through Ron's Shield Charm with a well-aimed Battering Curse. Ron was knocked him off his feet and thrown through the air for a couple yards. He lost his wand as he landed, and made to grab it, but before he could, Professor Vance walked in between them, his hands raised.

"All right, that's enough," he said, laughing. "Twenty points to Gryffindor. That was quite impressive. You two were dueling better than about ninety percent of the Wizarding population." Hermione blushed, and Ron grinned as Professor Vance handed him his wand. Then he looked around and noticed the several unconscious students spread haphazardly through the room. "Now, if you lot wouldn't mind reviving your opponents? The spell is _Ennervate._"

He went back up to Harry. "I'm impressed, Potter. All of your students won their duels, and that duel between Granger and Weasley was incredible, especially considering you're all still students. You taught them well." Harry grinned at him, slightly embarrassed at the praise, but pleased all the same.

"Thanks, Professor," he said.

"One more thing. Can I have your help in a small demonstration?"

Harry hesitated for a moment, but he liked Professor Vance so far, and he figured it wouldn't hurt. Besides, he'd found in the course of running the D.A. that he rather enjoyed teaching. "Of course," he said.

"Good man." Professor Vance clapped him once on the shoulder, then turned to the rest of the class.

"Back to your seats, everyone. Potter and I are going to give a little demonstration."

Professor Vance turned to Harry, then backed away several paces until they were about five yards apart. Harry blanched, realizing what he'd just agreed to. The professor bowed to him, and Harry returned it instinctively. He raised his wand, thinking nervously that this was not at _all _what he'd had in mind when he'd agreed to help with a demonstration. Well, there was nothing for it, now.

"On three, Potter," said Professor Vance, his own wand raised. "One, two, _three!_"

Immediately, Harry cast a Battering Curse, which Professor Vance dodged in one remarkably graceful motion, then returned with a bright orange curse that Harry recognized as a Blinding Hex. He blocked it with a Shield Charm, then shot the lightning spell he'd learned and accidentally used on Ron back at the Burrow. A bright white bolt of lightning flew across the classroom towards Professor Vance, who dove aside, casting a Battering Curse as he fell. Harry deflected it with another Shield Charm, though he felt himself take a few involuntary steps backward, as it had almost gotten through the shield. He dimly noticed that most of the class was watching with their mouths hanging open, but ignored it.

Professor Vance twirled his wand in a very graceful manner, and a large fireball flew across the room at Harry. Harry stood shocked for a moment, then came to his senses, and managed to dodge out of the way, but just barely. The smell of burned cloth reached his nostrils. He wiped sweat out of his eyes and glanced at Professor Vance, who didn't even seem to be out of breath. A surge of anger flowed through him, and he jabbed his wand at the Auror and shouted, _"Tonitris!_" A violet bolt of light raced at Professor Vance, who deflected it ( though Harry noticed with relish that he seemed to have difficulty doing so) into the wall, where it blew out a large chunk of stone with a very loud sound like a thunderclap.

The duel continued for another minute or so. Professor Vance looked like he was enjoying himself, and Harry had to admit, despite the fact that he was bruised, burned in a couple places, and had a few painful scrapes, that he was having fun, as well. He'd never been able to let go and fight like this before, at least not without his life on the line. It was an exhilarating feeling to test his power and skill against another wizard in a friendly contest. He felt himself grinning as he shouted "_Everbero_!", sending a bright blue wave of force at the professor, which was again deflected, though it seemed to knock him off balance. Finally, Professor Vance cast a silver spell that he'd never seen before right at him. It went right through his Shield Charm and hit his chest, sending a flash of pain across his abdomen. He felt himself flying backwards and then everything went black.

Harry opened his eyes to see Professor Vance reaching down, offering him a hand up. He took it, and the professor, with a powerful jerk that seemed irreconcilable with his small stature, brought Harry to his feet. Professor Vance was smiling broadly.

"That was some workout, Potter," he said quietly, and clapped Harry on the shoulder, almost knocking him off his feet again. "I haven't had that much fun in a long time." He turned to the rest of the class. "By the time you take your N.E.W.T.s, I expect you to be dueling at a similar level. Twenty-five points to Gryffindor." Ron and Hermione were watching him with wide eyes as he made his way back to his seat. As soon as he sat down (a bit gingerly; the spell Professor Vance had beaten him with had blown him backward rather hard on his arse), Hermione whispered to him.

"Where on earth did you learn to fight like that, Harry?" she said, wide-eyed.

He shrugged. "I've been reading that book you gave me. Lots of good spells in there."

"But how did you manage to do them without practicing? And how did you learn to move that fast?"

"Dunno. I can just do them," he said, a bit irritated with the questioning. Why was it so surprising that he had learned a couple of spells? Wasn't that why she'd given him the book in the first place? "And I suppose Quidditch would help me with speed," he added.

"Could be," Ron chimed in. "Seekers are always really quick. But that was wicked, Harry! You have to teach me to do that!"

***

As Harry headed out of the classroom ahead of Ron and Hermione (Hermione had stayed behind to talk to Professor Vance, and Ron had stayed with her), his ring started to heat up again, and he turned around to find himself face to face with Malfoy. He'd not even noticed the Slytherin's presence in class. Harry wondered vaguely why Malfoy had been so subdued; he was never subdued in any other class. Maybe it had something to do with a senior Auror teaching it.

Harry surreptitiously drew his wand, but kept it up his sleeve. All he had to do to use it was release it a little and let it fall into his hand. "What is it, Malfoy?" he said tiredly, hoping to avoid another confrontation with the git. It was only the first day of school, and he'd already had one, and it looked like he was about to have another.

"You're such a show-off, Potter," he snarled.

"I didn't ask to duel with him," Harry said, raising his eyebrows.

"Bet you loved all that attention," Malfoy continued, not giving the slightest indication that he'd heard Harry say anything. "Now you've got the Aurors fawning over you." Over Malfoy's shoulder, Harry saw Ron and Hermione exit the classroom, looking wary, each with their wands in their hands. They'd obviously heard what was going on. "Too bad you lost."

"In case you didn't notice, Malfoy, I was dueling an _Auror_. You know," he added, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "the best trained and most powerful wizards at the Ministry? The ones that sent your daddy and his little friends to Azkaban?"

Malfoy's ordinarily pale face flushed with anger. "I could take you with no trouble, Potter," he snarled, and Harry couldn't resist snorting. "That Auror may be too much of a coward to use Unforgivables, but I'm not." This was most unlike Malfoy. It was very uncharacteristic of him to get so angry so quickly; it was usually he who goaded Harry or Ron (or both, as often as not) into anger. The incident on the train must have affected him more than Harry realized, if Malfoy was threatening him with Unforgivable Curses in public, no matter how laughable the threat might seem.

"I don't have time for this, Malfoy," he said. "I took the Cruciatus Curse from Voldemort himself," he added, noting with satisfaction that Malfoy paled slightly at the name of the Dark Lord. "I resisted his Imperius Curse. And in case you didn't notice, the Killing Curse failed to do its job on me," he said, with a brief gesture to his scar. "So unless you actually have something important to say, sod off." With that, Harry turned his back on the other, letting his wand fall into his hand. He knew that insulting Malfoy so thoroughly and then dismissing him so contemptuously would anger him even further. His ring flared even hotter, and he whirled around again, bringing up his wand as he did so, to see Malfoy pulling his wand out of his robes. Harry had his wand to Malfoy's nose even before the Slytherin's wand was at chest level.

"Go for it, Malfoy," he said softly, but making his voice as cold and as threatening as he could. Harry was deadly serious now, and he could see that Malfoy knew it. The Slytherin swallowed nervously, and Harry bared his teeth at him. Only the most charitable observer would call it a smile. "Remember the train? Want to see how it feels to slam into _these _walls?" Malfoy dropped his wand and stepped back, eyes burning with impotent rage.

"You'll pay later, Potter," he said softly, his voice twisted with hatred. "I'll make you scream for this." He turned around and stalked away.

Harry let out his breath and lowered his wand, feeling deeply relieved. Though he didn't doubt for a moment that he could easily deal with Malfoy, there was something in his manner that bothered Harry. Malfoy had always been an arrogant, slimy, nasty git, but Harry had never once considered him to be a serious threat. Now, though... There was real hatred in his eyes, real anger, a true desire to cause Harry pain, and that unnerved him more than he really cared to admit. He resolved to find out why Malfoy was acting so different from normal.

Ron and Hermione lowered their wands and came up to him, Ron looking approving, Hermione looking concerned but with an air of satisfaction about her.

"That was brilliant, mate!" exclaimed Ron, slapping Harry on the back. "Prat nearly pissed himself when you pulled your wand."

"I'm impressed," admitted Hermione. "You didn't lose your temper once. Good for you." She looked sidelong at him. "You were kind of scary, though."

"Something's different about Malfoy," said Harry as they headed down a flight of stairs. He automatically jumped over a disappearing stair.

"How so?" said Ron, following suit, then stopping to wait for Hermione to jump. "He seems to be just as much of a git as he usually is."

"I know," said Harry, starting forward as Hermione joined them again. "But there's something more...serious about what he says now. Like he can actually back up his threats. I mean, he's always been a huge git, but no matter how much of a git he was, I've never actually thought of him as _evil_. Slimy, yes, arrogant, yes, conceited, definitely, spoiled, absolutely, but never evil." He paused, running through the confrontation in his mind. "But there was something in his eyes today. It made me kind of nervous," he admitted. It _had_ made him nervous. It was a look beyond mere jealousy or rivalry.

"Maybe," said Ron, but he sounded doubtful. "He's just gotten to be an even bigger bastard since he's gotten older."

Hermione didn't look so sure. "I think Harry has a point," she said, as they headed down the sweeping staircase that led to the entrance hall and the front doors. "Malfoy sounded more than just angry. He sounded vengeful."

They headed out the front door and down the lawn towards Hagrid's cabin, for Care of Magical Creatures. Harry didn't say anything; he was lost in his thoughts about Malfoy. Something had changed in him over the summer, something that made him more angry and vengeful than he'd ever been before.

He looked up to see Hagrid waving cheerfully at them, and Harry, despite his brooding, couldn't help but smile and wave back at his oldest friend. The crowd around his cabin was decidedly smaller than it had been last year; Harry was especially pleased to see that there were no Slytherins in sight. In fact, it looked like only four other people were there—Neville, Ernie Macmillan, Parvati, and Lavender. He'd been correct in his suspicions—N.E.W.T. Care of Magical Creatures would be one of his smallest classes.

"Glad ter see yeh," said Hagrid happily, as they reached his cabin. "This's all we've got for the class, so let's get started, eh?" He headed around the side of his cabin towards the pumpkin patch where Hagrid grew his famously enormous pumpkins for the Halloween feast. Harry was first, followed by Ron and Hermione, then Neville. The other three were following a bit more hesitantly, but Harry couldn't really blame them, given some of the creatures Hagrid had been known to keep, including a vicious three-headed dog, and a gigantic, man-eating spider, not to mention the infamous Blast-Ended Skrewts.

"This year, we'll be coverin' some o' the most interesting creatures," Hagrid said cheerfully as they walked, and Harry felt a twinge of apprehension. Hagrid's definition of _interesting _was usually other people's definition of _savage, deadly, _or both. "I got a real treat for yeh." They walked around the corner of the hut and towards the Forbidden Forest. Already, Harry was starting to feel anxious—the forest didn't hold many good memories for him. Hermione and Ron were also looking nervous, and Harry assumed that they had the same idea about the forest that he did.

After leading them down a shadowed path for about a quarter of an hour, they came to a clearing similar to where Hagrid kept the school threstrals. There were no thestrals in view, but perched on a stand in the middle of a clearing was a small, brightly colored bird with its beak wide open and looking for all the world that it was singing at the top of its lungs, yet no sound came out.

Hermione's eyes widened in recognition, surprising no one present. "Hagrid," she said, "is that a fwooper?"

"Aye, it is," said Hagrid happily. "Look at 'im. Isn't he beautiful?"

Harry looked closely at the bird, and he found himself agreeing with Hagrid. The fwooper's feathers were bright and almost violently colorful. Ron was also staring at it, but with considerable mistrust. "Don't those things drive you mental?" he said.

"Well done, Ron," said Hagrid. "Ten points ter Gryffindor. Every fwooper sold's gotta have a Silencin' Charm placed on it, or its song'll slowly drive the listener mad."

"What does it sound like?" asked Harry. He was curious. How could the mere song of a bird drive someone insane?

"It's hard ter describe," said Hagrid quietly. "People say it sounds diff'rent ter each person. I'll give yeh all a little taste. A little while won' have any permanent effect." He lifted his pink frilly umbrella, in which he stored the remnants of his snapped wand, and gestured at the bird.

Immediately, the air was filled with music. Not warm, uplifting music like that which came from Fawkes, the kind that stirred Harry's heart with courage and hope, but a raw, stark, haunting outpouring of pure emotion. It sounded like loss, pain, and despair put to music. Harry stood, transfixed by the elemental power of the fwooper's song, and the death of Sirius came crashing back to him. Memories started pouring into his mind's eye: Sirius embracing him as he left Grimmauld Place last year, Sirius turning into a dog to accompany him to King's Cross, Sirius in rags and looking like a skeleton as he stood shoulder to shoulder with Remus Lupin in the Shrieking Shack. It was too much for him to bear. He could barely stand, and his eyes were blurred with tears, the grief that he'd held back released by the music of the fwooper. If music could be said to weep, to scream in agony and despair, then this was it.

He fell to his knees, not noticing anything else, not caring about anything but the fwooper's song. The terrible beauty of the music pounded through his head, forcing his will to submit to its emotional power. Harry didn't know how long he stayed on his knees, tears coursing down his cheeks, staring at the fwooper. Then, through the sonic wail, he heard someone shout an incantation, and the music stopped.

His mind cleared almost immediately, and he quickly wiped the tears from his eyes, hoping against hope that no one had seen them. Hermione had her wand out, and to his astonishment, tears were running down her cheeks. He looked around at the rest of the class, all of whom had been affected by the music. Ron's eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot and his face was pale, while Parvati's face was buried in her hands and Lavender was kneeling on the ground, sobbing. Even Hagrid looked out of sorts; his normally cheerful face was somber and sorrowful, and even as Harry watched, a single tear rolled out of the corner of his eye and down into his bushy beard.

"Tha's what it sounds like," he said quietly.


	11. Chapter 11

XI.

"It was like raw despair set to music," said Hermione quietly as they headed back up to the castle for lunch. Harry didn't say anything.

"They're like brightly-colored dementors," Ron said equally quietly. "You all right, mate?" he asked Harry as they sat down.

"Yeah," said Harry. "I'm fine." But he really wasn't, and the idea of having Potions that afternoon was not making him feel any better. After waving goodbye to Hermione as she set off to her N.E.W.T. Arithmancy class, Harry and Ron headed back up to the Gryffindor common room to enjoy what was for Ron, the end of his classes for the day, and for Harry, a much-needed break before the exercise in self-restraint that was Potions. The walk up to the common room was silent but not unfriendly—Ron knew Harry well enough to understand that what Harry really needed was some quiet. When they got to the common room, Harry sat down in one of the armchairs by the fireplace, and stared quietly into the flames. Ron sat down in the armchair next to his, not saying anything, but his presence was reassuring, anyway.

He thought that this was getting better, but the incident with the Fwooper had torn the scab right off the wound that was Sirius's death, and the guilt was coming back, too. It was the guilt that was the worst part. Harry was no stranger to sorrow and sadness—he'd lived with the Dursleys for ten years—but this guilt was killing him. He couldn't get it out of his mind that, in a fundamental way, he had been responsible for Sirius's death. That if he hadn't been so stupid, or if he had just listened to Hermione, or remembered that Snape was a member of the Order before deciding to use Umbridge's office, Sirius would still be alive.

Intellectually, Harry knew that Voldemort had used him just as he'd used everyone else, Sirius had taken a risk in leaving the safety of Headquarters, and Snape had been even more useless than Umbridge had been in Defense when it came to the teaching of Occlumency, but that did nothing to assuage his guilt.

He felt a sudden desire to move somewhere else, to get some fresh air and to clear his head. Harry got up out of his chair, and Ron made as if to follow him, but Harry shook his head and Ron sat back down. He checked his watch and noticed he still had an hour until Snape's class, and decided to go for a walk around the castle. It'd been a while since he'd taken a nice relaxing walk through Hogwarts, and certainly even longer since he'd done it during the daytime and without his Invisibility Cloak.

Harry wandered aimlessly through the school, keeping an eye on his watch, determined not to be late for Potions. The last thing he needed was to start off the new school year with a confrontation with Snape. Subjecting himself to another two years of snide remarks, intentional sabotage, and general unpleasantness seemed to Harry the height of idiocy, but it was required to become an Auror. He kept walking, thinking vaguely of visiting Hedwig in the Owlery, but any thought of that was wiped out when he turned the corner and nearly ran into Cho Chang.

When Harry saw who he'd nearly run down, he suppressed a sigh of exasperation. He really didn't need this right now, so he just nodded politely and said, "Cho." It came out colder than he'd meant it to, and she flinched a little before she said hello.

"Hi, Harry," she said after a moment. "I heard about your godfather..."

That was as far as Harry was willing to let her go. "I really don't want to talk about it, Cho," he said coldly. _She has amazingly bad timing_, a slightly detached part of his mind noted. "I've got to go." He kept going, leaving her standing there, feeling slightly guilty for being such a prat, but Cho hadn't gone with him to the Department of Mysteries, her friend had _betrayed _the DA to Dolores Umbridge, and she'd always made him feel nervous and awkward anyway. He checked his watch, and started to hurry towards the Owlery, when Cho called his name again.

Harry turned back around. "What?" he said, trying to keep his voice polite. He kept reminding himself that it wasn't her fault that he was in such a lousy mood.

"I'm sorry about all last year," she said, blushing a little, and Harry couldn't help but blush too, remembering the ever-escalating series of disasters that had characterized their relationship. He didn't know what to say, so he waited for Cho to say something else. At length, she said, "I really do like you, Harry. I don't suppose we could..."

"I don't think so, Cho," he said as gently as he could. He forced himself to soften his voice. "Things are different now. It wouldn't work." It was funny, Harry thought to himself. At this time last year, he would have given anything for Cho to admit that she really liked him, but now, after the way the world had changed for him, now that he knew what awaited him at some point in the future..."I'm sorry."

Cho's eyes watered a little, but she took a deep breath and nodded. "Okay, then. I understand. I'll see you around, Harry." And with that, she gave him a quick smile, turned around and walked off. Harry watched her go, feeling relieved. He knew it would never have worked, and he was relieved that she had taken it so well. Cho hadn't seemed the kind of person to take rejection with grace, but obviously, Harry had misjudged her.

He resumed his walk to the Owlery, relieved to find that it was empty when he arrived. He clicked his tongue, and Hedwig flew down and settled on his arm. She stuck out her leg and he shook his head. "No letter today, girl, just coming to say hello." He stroked her feathers gently as he walked over to the open window. The view was quite spectacular from here; it was the highest point in the castle aside from the Astronomy Tower. The early afternoon sun glinted off the lake, and Harry thought about how down by that lake he'd protected Sirius from a hundred dementors, swam down into its depths to rescue Ron during the Triwizard tournament, and how it had been a favorite thinking spot during the last couple weeks of his fifth year, after Sirius had died and he'd needed to be alone. It looked very peaceful from here. Hedwig nibbled on his ear in an affectionate way, and Harry started to feel a little better.

He wondered what the future held for him, what he'd be doing this time next year, or the year after, assuming he was alive. Was there ever going to be time for him to stop worrying about Voldemort? He checked his watch again and quickly figured out how much time he had before he had to head back to the Gryffindor common room to get his bag and then down to the dungeons for Potions. He had a little more time before he had to get going.

A crunch from behind Harry made him turn around quickly, already going for his wand. Hedwig hooted a little in surprise, and her talons tightened on his arm, breaking the skin a little. Ginny had just come in the door and trodden on the remains of a regurgitated mouse. Seeing it was her, Harry relaxed and smiled.

"Sorry," she said, returning his smile. "Ron said I could borrow Pigwidgeon to send something." Ginny looked at him more closely. "Am I interrupting anything?"

"Nah," said Harry. "Had an interesting lesson in Care of Magical Creatures."

"Yeah, Ron told me about it." Ginny knitted her brows, looking concerned. "Are you all right? I've heard what fwooper music can do to people."

"I'm okay," he said. "I just came up here to think a little and to see Hedwig."

"The Owlery is good for thinking," Ginny agreed, then hesitated for a moment before saying, a little more hesitantly, "Is there anything you want to talk about?"

He smiled again, sadly. "Not really. Just missing Sirius. A lot's happened in the last few months."

"I know," she said quietly, then gave a low whistle. Pigwidgeon fluttered down from somewhere in the rafters, hooting excitedly. Harry watched as she tied an envelope to his leg and sent him off. He checked his watch again. It was probably time to start heading back. Something occurred to him then.

"Don't you have class now?" he asked Ginny.

She grinned. "Flitwick canceled it. Colin Creevy got hit with a bad Engorgement Charm. When we left, his head was up to the ceiling."

Harry chuckled. "How did that happen?"

"No idea," she said. "Speaking of classes, don't you have Potions soon?"

"Yeah, I was just about to head back," he said, letting Hedwig off his arm and starting for the door.

"I'll come with you, I left my bag in the common room." said Ginny, following him out of the Owlery and down the stairs to the castle proper.

It was strange, Harry thought. He always felt more comfortable around Ginny, even though he knew that he was starting to develop feelings for her. There was no awkwardness or painful silences like there had been with Cho, and she was easy to talk to. They talked about inconsequential things all the way back down to the common room, where they went to grab their bags and go their separate ways.

Ron was still sitting in the armchair, reading a book, Harry noticed to great surprise. _Hermione must be having quite an influence on him_. He was quite sure that was the longest he'd ever seen Ron sitting still while awake. Ron looked up as he heard Harry come over to get his bag. "All right, Harry?" he asked, sounding more concerned than usual.

Harry nodded. "I'm all right." He smiled half-heartedly. "Well, I'm off. Wish me luck."

Ron snorted. "Fat lot of good it would do, but good luck with Snape, mate."

Harry managed to make it to the dungeons about five minutes before class began. Predictably, Hermione was already there, and he tossed his bag down next to her. She looked up at him, concern in her brown eyes.

"Are you all right, Harry?" she said quietly.

He nodded. "Yeah, I'm okay. I went to see Hedwig and talked to Ginny. Had a run in with Cho, too."

Hermione's eyebrows rose, but she didn't comment. "I see," she said at length, then turned back to her copy of _Moste Potente Potions. _He looked around the classroom. Unsurprisingly, given Snape's extreme choosiness for the class, there were almost as few people in it as there were in Care of Magical Creatures. Unfortunately, but not unexpectedly, Draco Malfoy was sitting in the front row, staring at nothing in particular. A couple of Ravenclaws Harry didn't know, as well as Terry Boot, Ernie McMillan, and Susan Bones were also in the class.

Harry's scan of the classroom was interrupted by Snape's entrance. He hadn't changed at all since Harry had last seen him. His robes still were black, his hair was still long, lank, and greasy, and the sneer under his hooked nose was as contemptuous as it had always been. "You are all here because you have shown considerable aptitude for potion making in the eyes of the Ministry of Magic, though I cannot comprehend how some of you"—here he glared at Harry, who didn't say a word—"managed to make it into this class. Regardless of how well you did on the O.W.L. exams, if your performance is substandard in anyway this term, you will be removed from the class roster." He kept his cold black eyes on Harry a little longer, then turned away and pointed his wand at the board. Harry squinted to read it. Then he felt an unpleasant shock go through him. Veritaserum. They were making Veritaserum.

"Veritaserum is the most powerful truth potion known to wizard-kind," said Snape. "Three drops dissolved in a gallon of water will cause anyone who drinks of that water to spill their innermost secrets to the nearest bystander." He smirked at Harry. "Most unfortunately, the Headmaster has prohibited its use on trouble-making students, often preventing them from being held responsible for their actions." Snape turned to the rest of the class. "This potion will take a full month to make, and will serve as one third of your grade for the term. The procedure is on the board, and all necessary ingredients are in the store cupboard. Begin."

He stalked back to his desk at the front of the classroom, then looked up. "One more thing," he said, with an ugly smile. "We will be testing these potions once they're complete. If you make the potion incorrectly, it is very likely that the drinker will be poisoned."

Harry swore under his breath. He knew already who the guinea pig for the Veritaserum would be. Snape would be chomping at the bit to find out some of Harry's secrets. Either be poisoned, or be forced to tell his deepest secrets to Snape. He turned to Hermione, who had already poured the four cups of water that made the base for the potion into her cauldron. "Any idea how bad the poisoning would be?" he asked half-jokingly.

"Harry, that's not funny," Hermione said sharply. "Besides, I'm sure that Professor Dumbledore will supervise the testing."

Harry wasn't so sure. He knew Snape would just love to hear some of the things he kept hidden.

He filled his cauldron with water and added the ounce of dragon liver that would provide the magical base for the potion. Harry poured some lacewing flies into his mortar and picked up the pestle to begin mashing them. He swore as the pestle flew out of his hands and fell to the ground with a _clink_ as it hit the stone floor. He ducked down, picked it up, and resumed mashing the flies when it flew out of his hands again. Hermione was looking at him oddly. "I have no idea," he hissed.

Quickly, Harry glanced around the room and saw Malfoy pointing his wand at him under his desk, smirking maliciously. His ring started to heat up on his finger. Harry felt his temper begin to rise, but fought it down. Potions was the worst possible place to lose his temper. Hermione had seen, too, and was watching nervously, but didn't say anything. He glanced up to make sure that Snape wasn't watching him, then pulled out his own wand, hiding it in his sleeve so Malfoy couldn't see it. Then he went back to mashing his lacewing flies. Time to see if he could manage silent spells.

Sure enough, he felt the pestle start to jerk a little. Harry grabbed the pestle as firmly as he could, twitched his wand, and shouted "_Protego!" _in his mind, keeping his mouth firmly shut.

There was a crash as Malfoy's cauldron flew up off the desk and hit the wall, splattering the partially-made Veritaserum all over the stone wall of the dungeons. Harry quickly stuffed his wand back into his pocket and tried to look surprised. The room went silent as Snape stood up from his desk, his face curling into the sneer that Harry knew so well.

He stalked over to the cauldron, which was now lying on the floor, dented from its collision with the wall, then looked at Malfoy. "A problem, Draco?" Snape asked silkily.

"Potter hexed me, sir!" said Malfoy, a slight smirk on his face. Snape turned to face Harry, his black eyes boring in on Harry's eyes.

"Potter, give me your wand," said Snape, not taking his eyes from Harry's face. He felt the slight push of Legilimency, and attempted to divert Snape's probe as he handed the professor his wand. He saw Snape raise his eyebrows slightly and the pressure on his mind increased a bit. He did his best to maintain the blank wall, but could feel beads of sweat breaking out on his forehead. Just as Harry thought Snape would break through, the pressure stopped. Snape obviously hadn't been able to glean anything, as he looked frustrated and he said coldly, "Potter, if there is any sort of hex on this wand, I shall remove you from the class list immediately, and see to it that you are suspended from school." He pulled out his wand and touched the tip to Harry's, then muttered, "_Prior incantato!_" A hemisphere made of gray smoke erupted from the point where they touched, and floated up into the air. Snape handed Harry his wand with a very sour look. "_Deletrius!_" he snarled, and the shadow Shield Charm evaporated.

Harry resumed his work, but Snape muttered to him as he passed by, "Any sort of disruption in this class from you at all, Potter, and I'll personally make sure you never become an Auror."

Afterwards, Harry wasn't quite sure how he managed to make it through the rest of the class with his hands trembling in anger and frustration. Hermione kept nudging him whenever he was about to screw up badly, and he knew it was only because of her watchful eye that his partially-made Veritaserum remained partially-made Veritaserum, instead of some horrid poison.

Malfoy said nothing to Harry as they walked out of the class, but shot him a look that could have peeled paint. He was sorely tempted to hex Malfoy now that they were out of class, but Hermione grabbed his arm and said, "Come on, Harry, he's just looking to get you in trouble." With surprising strength, she managed to drag him back upstairs and into the Great Hall.

"Thanks for the help in class," he said, once they were safely away from the dungeons.

"You're welcome, Harry," she said. "You looked a little angry, and I didn't want you to blow up your cauldron and get kicked out on the first day. How did you manage to block Malfoy?"

"You knew what he was doing?" Harry said, surprised. Hermione had been concentrating very hard on her potion, and consequently, at the end of class, it had been the perfect shade of sky blue that Snape had said it should be.

"I'm not blind, Harry, and I know you're not clumsy. You must have cast that Shield Charm somehow." Her eyes lit up in excitement. "Did you do it wandlessly? That's a big deal, Harry! Not many wizards can do wandless magic, and if you're able to do it, then—"

"No, it wasn't wandless," Harry interrupted. "I just did it silently. I figured that shouting '_Protego!_' in the middle of Potions was probably not a good idea."

"Oh," said Hermione, looking slightly disappointed. Then she brightened again as they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady. "But you did manage it silently! Well done!"

On Tuesday, in Transfiguration, Professor McGonagall had barely noticed the fact that their grades were excellent before she started in on the most complicated, difficult magic Harry had ever seen. Advanced Transfiguration moved on from just turning something into something else; they were now starting to learn Conjuring, the art of creating something from nothing. Even more, she had started giving out information about the Animagus transformation to interested students. Predictably, Hermione had immediately become fascinated with the idea, though Harry found it very interesting, too. If his father and Sirius had done it, why shouldn't he learn to do it? It would certainly come in useful. McGonagall offered some words of advice to those who seemed interested.

"The Animagus transformation," she said when Hermione had eagerly raised her hand to ask for more information, "is a very dangerous process. It involves carefully changing every part of your body into the shape of your _anima_. Each person has a unique _anima_, and can never turn into any other sort of creature. I will be teaching those who wish to attempt it in private lessons, though do not expect too much. The vast majority of wizards are not able to master it."

Despite this dire warning, both Harry and Hermione had signed up, and they managed to talk Ron into it, though he seemed less than enthused about the idea.

After class, Professor McGonagall had called him into her office, where, to his surprise, Katie Bell was already waiting. "I wish to consult with you two," she began without preamble, "about who you feel the Gryffindor Quidditch captain should be. Both of you have been on the team for the same amount of time, so I would prefer to choose one of you, though if neither of you wish to be captain, I can offer it to one of the Weasleys. Sloper and Kirke have already resigned.

"I think Katie should do it," said Harry immediately. He already had enough on his plate, and he'd always left the strategy to the others, preferring to search for the Golden Snitch on his own, without undue worrying as to how the rest of the team was playing.

Katie's eyes widened. "Are you sure, Harry?" she asked. "You're the best Seeker we've had in centuries."

Professor McGonagall looked surprised, too, though she nodded when Harry explained his reasons. "Very well. If you have no objection, Miss Bell, then let me offer you my congratulations. You're the captain."

Katie took the shiny Quidditch Captain badge that Professor McGonagall offered her, and pinned it to her robes, beaming at Harry.

"Are you sure that you want me to have it?" she asked after McGonagall dismissed them.

"Absolutely," said Harry. And he meant it. Having to figure out how to kill Voldemort, lessons with Dumbledore, lessons with McGonagall, and staying in N.E.W.T. Potions, not to mention the Quidditch practices, even without having to organize them, had left him busier than he'd been in a while.

N.E.W.T. Charms had been more enjoyable than any of his other N.E.W.T. classes (save perhaps for Defense Against the Dark Arts), but Charms had always been one of his favorite classes. Flitwick seemed a bit more serious than he had in the previous classes, but Harry couldn't tell if that was because it was the advanced class, or because of what was going on in the wizarding world at the moment.

On Wednesday morning, he, Ron, and Hermione walked into Defense Against the Dark Arts to find Dumbledore standing there, his tall frame dwarfing Professor Vance. As they entered the classroom, both Vance and Dumbledore turned towards the door, and both smiled. "Potter, Weasley, Granger," said Vance in greeting, while Dumbledore merely smiled at them, his bright blue eyes twinkling over his half-moon glasses. They sat down at the front of the classroom like they had done in the previous class, anxious for the lecture to begin, and at the same time, a little nervous. Harry was less so than Ron and Hermione: he was able to throw off the Imperius Curse, but the other two had not been able to, and he hoped that Professor Vance would have some additional information on how to do it.

When the classroom was full, Professor Vance remained at the head of the classroom, while Dumbledore walked to the back.  
"Morning, everyone," Vance said. "I hope you all remember that today's lesson is a practical one. If you forgot, we'll be learning about resisting the Imperius Curse. That's why the Headmaster is here." He turned to the board and scrawled "The Imperius Curse" on it before casting the transcription spell that recorded his words.

"Now, the Imperius Curse," said Professor Vance, "is the subtlest of the Unforgivables. It is almost impossible to tell whether or not a wizard is acting under its direction. The clearest sign is in the eyes—they will have a glazed, unfocused quality to them. I know Potter can resist the curse, but the rest of you could probably use some pointers." He sighed. "Unfortunately, it's not something I can really teach; either you have the willpower to resist the curse or you don't. It does matter who casts it; a weak willed wizard will have a much harder time controlling another wizard than a strong-willed one. It's the same for resisting it; if you have strong willpower, you may be able to resist it from a weaker wizard, but a stronger one could overpower you. There's no guarantees in being able to do it." He cleared his throat and paced for a moment, obviously gathering his thoughts. "One more thing. If you see the spell coming, it also makes it a little easier to resist, but that's a rare luxury. Most Death Eaters won't give you a chance. The best advice I can give you is one that my mentor at Auror training gave me: CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" He roared these last two words in a voice so reminiscent of Mad-Eye Moody that Harry couldn't help smiling, and he thought he heard a snort of laughter from Ron.

He glanced at the back of the classroom where Harry knew that Dumbledore was standing, then suddenly, Professor Vance brought up his wand, pointed it at Harry, and snapped, "_Imperio!_"

As it had before when the curse was placed on him, reality seemed to fall away from Harry, and a wonderful feeling of complete lack of responsibility for his actions suffused him. It was short-lived however, as Harry heard Professor Vance say, "Now, stand up." and everything came slamming back.

He crossed his arms, smirked, and said, "No."

Professor Vance smiled, satisfied. "Well done, Potter. The rest of you line up, I'll be putting the curse on each of you. Don't worry, I won't do anything that will embarrass you."

Harry watched with interest as the rest of the class went. Some people were easier than others. Lavender Brown, despite being put under the curse three times, had no ability to throw it off, though Ron was able to throw it off completely after his third time. He walked back to Harry, grinning.

"Guess that Weasley stubbornness is good for something," Harry said, clapping Ron on the shoulder.

Ron laughed. "You got that right, mate!"

Up front, Hermione was having a little more trouble with the spell—Harry suspected that her more organized, disciplined mind would be easier to control. She wasn't able to throw it off right away the way Harry could or Ron could, though she did fight it and eventually resisted it after about five minutes of reciting the text of the Magna Carta.

Most of the class was still unable to throw off the curse at all, though Neville did partially resist it, and Malfoy was able to fight it off the way Hermione did, which didn't surprise Harry that much—he knew Malfoy was strong-willed. After everyone in the class had attempted to resist at least three times, only Harry, Ron, and Neville were able to throw off the curse completely, and Malfoy and Hermione had managed to throw it off after a short time under it. Everyone else was looking somewhat discouraged, but Dumbledore himself came to the head of the classroom.

"Thank you all for attempting this," he said. "Those of you who were able to resist the curse, very well done. You have a rare ability at your disposal. Those of you who don't, do not worry; Professor Vance is a powerful wizard and his Imperius Curses are consequently quite strong. Even having this knowledge may help you when it truly matters." With that, Dumbledore nodded to Professor Vance, and strode out of the classroom, only stopping for a moment to remind Harry of his lesson that night.


	12. Chapter 12

XII. First Lesson

By the time his private lesson with Professor Dumbledore rolled around that night, Harry was ready for the weekend, though most unfortunately, it was only Wednesday. Things had started off well in Defense Against the Dark Arts, kept on okay in Care of Magical Creatures (Hagrid had taken Harry aside after their class and apologized effusively for the fwoopers), and then turned abruptly and completely sour in Potions, which was a double.

Snape seemed determined to prove that Harry didn't belong in N.E.W.T. Potions, and though he'd performed adequately (with Hermione's help) in Monday's lesson, he had a much harder time today. Snape had hovered around his table for much of the class, and Hermione was unable to help him directly, though she had kicked him under the table whenever he was about to ruin the Veritaserum. Malfoy had twice tried to throw something in Harry's cauldron; only his Seeker's reflexes had allowed him to catch the objects before they contaminated his potion. Harry knew that Snape had seen what was going on, but the Potions master's only reaction was to give another unpleasant smirk to Harry, as though daring him to retaliate.

When the class was finally over, Snape said from the front of the room, "Your potion should now be the pure clear color of Veritaserum. Though it may look finished, it will have to cure for two weeks before you begin the final process of activating the truth magic within it. In the interim, we will be studying in depth the _theory _of potions. This will require diligence and a considerable measure of intelligence, as the magical laws underlying potion-making are subtle and complex. I suspect some of you will not be sitting here by the end of the year." He said this last portion with a glance at Harry, who forced down his temper with difficulty.

"Be prepared to take a great deal of notes on Friday," he said ominously, then dismissed him.

When they had gotten out of the dungeons, Harry turned to Hermione and said, "Thanks for the help."

Hermione just shook her head. "I don't know how you do it, Harry. I can't imagine why he hates you so much that he'd let Malfoy get away with deliberate sabotage."

Harry didn't say anything, but he had never forgotten what he'd seen in the Pensieve, nor had he forgotten the rage on Snape's face as he'd dragged Harry out of the memory and thrown him out of the classroom. If that was only a portion of the abuse Snape had been subject to... He shook his head. Whatever his father had done to Snape or Snape to his father, it had been in the past, and certainly wasn't an excuse for the man's behavior.

At ten minutes to eight that night, he bade farewell to Ron and Hermione, and headed out of the Gryffindor common room for his first lesson with Dumbledore. The corridors were nearly deserted, though Peeves attempted to delay him by suddenly turning up with a large sack of flour to dump on his head. When he made it to the gargoyle guarding the entrance to the Headmaster's office, Harry said "Blood Pops." The gargoyle jumped aside to reveal the moving staircase up to Dumbledore's office. He got on. At the top of the stairs, he was about to use the golden griffin knocker on the door when he heard voices.

"We don't know what he's doing with them," came a familiar voice. It was Professor Vance. Harry leaned closer. What was the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor doing with Dumbledore, and what was he talking about? "So far, over fifty of them have been confirmed abducted, and there hasn't been a word in the Prophet about it."

"Why should there be?" came Dumbledore's voice. "The _Daily Prophet_ has little interest in what is going on in the Muggle world." There was a sound like a sigh. "Once again, they ignore the signs of danger."

"I don't suppose you have any theories as to what Voldemort wants with a bunch of Muggles, do you, Headmaster?"

"I have many theories, Darius," said Dumbledore heavily, "and none of them are pleasant." There was the scraping of a chair on the stone floor as someone got up.

"I'll keep an eye out for any more kidnappings," said Professor Vance. "Good night, Headmaster."

"Good night, Darius," Dumbledore replied.

Harry jumped back as the door opened, not wanting Professor Vance to know that he'd been listening. "Potter," said the professor in greeting, and nodded to Harry as he walked past, not showing any surprise at Harry's presence.

"Come in, Harry," came Dumbledore's voice, and Harry walked into his office. Dumbledore was smiling benevolently at him. "Sorry to leave you waiting, but Professor Vance had urgent news for me."

"What's going on with Voldemort, sir?" Harry asked, before he could stop himself. Dumbledore sighed, though it didn't sound irritated, more resigned, and the smile fell away from his face to be replaced by one of vague sadness.

"I told myself that I would not keep any more information from you, Harry," said Dumbledore. "But though I intend to keep that promise, it is still difficult for me to accept that I must bring the horrors of war to yet another person, especially one so young." He raised his hand to forestall Harry's protest. "That was not a slur upon your courage, Harry; after all I've seen you do, I could not ever doubt that. But despite that, you are still only sixteen. I have seen two Wizarding wars, and I have seen what they do to people." For just a moment, Dumbledore looked his age of a century and a half, but then his face cleared somewhat. "I must impress upon you, however, the importance of keeping this information secret. I would ask that you do not share this information with anyone but your closest confidants. I'm sure that Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger will be circumspect with what I will reveal to you. I will also warn you that I will not give you any names or any specifics, as your Occlumency is not yet strong enough to fend off a complete attack from Voldemort."

Harry leaned forward in his chair. Finally, he was going to learn what was going on with the war against Voldemort! He could even understand Dumbledore's reluctance to give him all the details, though he hoped at some point that he would be able to hear all of it. Another reason to improve his Occlumency.

Dumbledore sat back and surveyed Harry through his half-moon spectacles. "The most important thing, Harry, is to not get upset by what you are hearing. Yes, you may be the only one who can destroy the Dark Lord, but that is no reason to go haring off unprepared to force an early end. I fear that will only bring your death and darkness to the world for a long time to come." He looked at Harry sternly. "Guilt is a powerful emotion, Harry, and I don't want it to overcome your better judgment. So please, when I tell you of what has been happening in the second war, try not to blame yourself.

"Since the battle at the Department of Mysteries revealed him to the Wizarding community at large, Voldemort has seen no need to restrain himself in the name of secrecy. Though all of the homes of important Ministry officials are well-protected by powerful wards and members of the Department for Magical Law Enforcement, Voldemort is a very powerful and very talented wizard, and has made some progress in dispelling the wards. Once the wards are down, as well-trained as the Department personnel are, they are no match for Voldemort and his most powerful Death Eaters. Bellatrix Lestrange, Lucius Malfoy, Antonin Dolohov, Augustus Rookwood—they are very powerful wizards, and no Ministry official save for the Aurors would have much of a chance to defeat them in a duel. We have already lost some important members of the Ministry hierarchy to assassination by Death Eaters. We were quite fortunate that Amelia Bones was able to kill Hephaestus Rackham and badly injure Lysander Travers and escape. But the new Head of the Department for International Magical Cooperation and her two Auror bodyguards were killed, and the Head of the Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures has fallen off the face of the earth."

"You mean he's disappeared, sir?"

Dumbledore winced. "No, I mean he's fallen off the face of the earth."

Harry blanched at that, then recovered himself. "But what is Voldemort doing, sir? I...I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but I heard Professor Vance mention something about the abduction of Muggles."

Dumbledore merely nodded. "Over fifty Muggles have gone missing in the last two weeks alone. The Muggle government has no idea where they've all gone, or who's taken them."

"But you do, sir?"

"Of course, Harry," said Dumbledore. "Voldemort has taken them. There is no doubt about that. What baffles me is what he could possibly want with them."

"What about the soul bindings?" asked Harry, remembering what Dumbledore had told him in the forest during the summer.

"Perhaps," said Dumbledore, sounding doubtful. "But remember how Voldemort feels about Muggles and half-bloods—I daresay that he would find the very idea of binding Muggle souls to his abhorrent. At the moment, though, Voldemort is sticking to the same tactics he was using in the last war. Random killings, dementor attacks, vampire attacks, and so on are starting to make people very worried, and the Ministry is, quite honestly, not much better off then they were last year when they had no idea what was going on. At least then, the Order could operate without the risk of Ministry interference. Now, Fudge is beginning to make moves towards drafting any able, qualified wizard or witch into the fight against Voldemort, which would obviously include any given member of the Order."

"A draft?" gasped Harry. He'd never heard of such a thing in the Wizarding world before. Muggle world, yes, he'd had basic history lessons in primary school. But a draft of all "able" adults would turn the Wizarding world upside down.

"Fortunately, the response Fudge received from the focus groups he formed was universally negative—I believe he was hexed twice for even suggesting such a thing. But the fact that he would even put such an idea on the table is something I find very troubling."

"What is the Order doing?" asked Harry. Now that Dumbledore had agreed to include him, he wanted to find out all he could. "I mean, all last year, you had them guarding me, or recruiting, or trying to spread the word that Voldemort was back. But now that he's finally declared himself, what are they doing now?"

Dumbledore sighed. "I can't tell you all the particulars, Harry, but we are still recruiting. Other members are now guarding places that we feel would be vulnerable but the Ministry has not taken action to protect. Some are attempting to discover the whereabouts of Voldemort's headquarters, and others are keeping tabs on known Death Eaters. I really can't discuss much more, but understand, dear boy, that it is not from lack of trust, but from the necessity of protecting the members of the Order. If Voldemort were to again gain access to your mind and see any more detailed information, it could be disastrous."

"I understand, Professor," said Harry, and he did this time.

"Now," said Dumbledore, "that is the gist of what is going on with the war. Let us move on to the lesson, shall we? Do you have any questions about what we are going to do here?"

"I do, sir," said Harry. "Are you going to teach me how to duel like you and Voldemort did at the Ministry?"

Dumbledore smiled down at him. "Perhaps you feel that you will have to duel with Voldemort in order to kill him?" he said, twinkling. "Well, that is certainly a possibility, so to that end, I've asked Professor Vance to give you one-on-one dueling lessons. I think you will find him to be a more than satisfactory teacher—he is an excellent duelist. Professor Vance will discuss those lessons with you in your next Defense Against the Dark Arts class. Your lessons with me, though I will introduce a few useful spells to you from time to time, will mostly focus on how to remove Voldemort's protections against death and ultimately, kill him without the use of the Killing Curse. I will also be teaching you some advanced magic not usually taught to Hogwarts students, but not until later in the term. We will also continue practicing Occlumency, for it is more vital than ever that you learn to close your mind to Voldemort. If he learns just how much I suspect he has done, then things will go very badly."

"How can I do that, Professor?" Harry asked, remembering the night in the Forbidden Forest where despite his best efforts, he hadn't been able to do more with the Killing Curse than blacken a few blades of grass. "How can I kill Voldemort without the Killing Curse?"

"There are certainly other curses and spells that can kill with the proper application," said Dumbledore. "The Detonator Curse can easily be deadly if aimed at the proper part of the body. The Severing Curse, if cast with enough power, can remove limbs, and the Fracturing Hex can shatter bones. Then again, we can Conjure heavy objects to fall on our enemies, or Vanish the ground beneath them."

"But you don't think these will work against Voldemort," said Harry.

"Unfortunately, no," said Dumbledore gravely. "His skill as a duelist is far too great for that. You'll remember back in the Ministry when he and I dueled—neither of us was able to harm the other, despite the spells that we were casting."

"So then how am I supposed to kill him? And what's the good of learning these spells if they won't be good enough to kill him?" demanded Harry, starting to feel frustrated. All Dumbledore had told him was that everything Harry had thought of to kill the Dark Lord would probably not work, and he wanted to know more than that.

Dumbledore surveyed him over the tops of his half-moon spectacles. "Well, the good of them is that even if you can't out-duel Voldemort, you will still, in all likelihood, be forced to deal with at least some of his Death Eaters. And as for killing, I will be perfectly honest. I don't know how you will kill him at the moment, Harry, though I have several promising lines of inquiry. For example, I have some very important information on soul binding to share with you."

"I've been meaning to ask something about that, actually," said Harry. He had thought of this while lying in bed the previous night, and the thought had chilled him. "What if Voldemort has bound more than one soul to his own? Does that mean that his body will have to be destroyed for each one?"

"I honestly do not know," said Dumbledore, and his expression was grim. "I have also considered this possibility, though in all my research, I have never seen any references to more than one soul being bound. It is a very rare, very Dark form of magic that even evil wizards have trouble performing. Even Grindelwald, dark and nearly as dangerous as Voldemort, never used the soul bond, though he was never interested in living forever, just in accumulating as much power as he could while he lived. If Voldemort has bound more than one soul to his own, then, yes, it is entirely possible that we will have to remove them one by one. This does bring us to the first bit of good news I've had in this area, however. There is mention of an ancient spell, one that can force a bound soul to go beyond, though unfortunately, I haven't been able to discover anything but its name—the Requiem Charm."

"So I have to learn how to perform this...Requiem Charm in order to defeat Voldemort?" asked Harry, feeling surprised. That seemed fairly simple.

"It's not nearly as easy as it sounds, Harry," cautioned Dumbledore. "First, we must find out exactly how many souls he has bound to his own. Then, we must find out how to cast this Requiem Charm, and it is possible that the means to do so have been lost in the mists of time. And even if we manage to do both these things, we still have to find Voldemort, defeat or incapacitate his Death Eaters—because, I assure you, Harry, he will not hesitate to call them to his aid—and overcome his resistance in order to use the spell against him. This, of course, assumes that there are no other complications—I could be mistaken about how Voldemort prevented the rebounded curse from killing him, or that the Requiem Charm is anything more than just a myth, or that he finds out what we are doing. Make no mistake, Harry, this is a long, dark road that we have in front of us, and I must apologize again for not making this clear earlier. We will speak of this later, for you now know as much as I do about Voldemort's soul bindings. Let us move on to Occlumency. Have you been practicing?"

"I have, sir," said Harry, and this time, it was the truth. Somehow, disappointing Dumbledore seemed infinitely worse than infuriating Snape. Not to mention he'd personally experienced the consequences of not learning it. "I've been trying to clear my mind every night before I go to bed, and I could feel Professor Vance's probing in class on Monday, and at the start-of-term feast."

"Ah, yes," said Dumbledore, his lips forming a wry smile. "Perhaps I should have him give you a few pointers on Legilimency; he's quite skilled at it for someone his age. He also is a bit lax when it comes to his Occlumency studies. Close your eyes, and clear your mind. Do you remember the techniques I suggested in the Forest?"

"Yes, sir," said Harry, already focusing his mind's eye on the blank gray wall. His eyes were closed, and he tried his best to keep his thoughts on the wall. It wasn't easy, but the nights of practice between the night in the Forest and now had paid off, and he was able to keep any spare thoughts from drifting across his consciousness.

"Excellent," said Dumbledore, and the Headmaster's voice sounded slightly muffled again, the way it had in the Forest. "I will now try again to break into your mind, using more force this time. Get ready..._Legilimens!_"

Dumbledore's spell was much more powerful this time, and Harry felt his head start to ache as he felt the indescribably bizarre sensation of Dumbledore's mind battering against his own. After a short time, Dumbledore broke through, and an image of Dolores Umbridge leering at him as he wrote _I must not tell lies _in his own blood floated in front of his eyes. As soon as this happened, the Headmaster pulled out of Harry's mind, and Harry opened his eyes, feeling disappointed in himself. The progress he had made suddenly seemed all for naught. Dumbledore had broken through in about thirty seconds, and Harry had been putting up as good a fight as he could.

Dumbledore seemed to pick up on this, for he smiled at Harry, and said, "Don't get discouraged, Harry. Occlumency is something that requires considerable study for one to gain proficiency. You have only been properly studying the discipline for a handful of months, and you have shown considerable promise. I think I will conduct a little experiment. I am now going to probe you as subtly and as gently as I can, and I want you to tell me if you can detect me. Keep your eyes open this time."

Harry nodded, feeling a little better. He looked at Dumbledore and again focused on the blank wall, and waited for the Headmaster to begin. Nothing happened. After a little while, nothing continued to happen. He and Dumbledore were just staring intently into each other's eyes. He cleared his throat, wondering if Dumbledore had somehow fallen asleep with his eyes open and wand raised.

Dumbledore gave a tiny shake as though awakening from a trance. "Did you feel anything?" he asked.

"You were probing me?" Harry gasped, not believing it. "I didn't feel a thing, or see any memories at all."

"Well, not to worry," said Dumbledore. "Your ability to discern even slight probing will improve with time, and as your mental barrier gets stronger, it will also block even probing you don't feel. For the next few lessons, we will concentrate on improving your Occlumency. Let's try again, and I'll be stronger." Again, Harry and Dumbledore started staring at each other over the desk; Harry tried to keep his mind blank, focused on the perfectly plain gray wall, and this time, he had the strangest feeling of..._something. _The feeling was quite indescribable, but it was definitely there, like the minute buzzing of a fly in a silent room, just barely noticeable. The best he could describe it was as a sort of pressure on his head.

Suddenly the buzzing lifted, and Dumbledore came out of his trance. He grinned at Dumbledore. "I felt it that time, Professor, just barely, but I felt it!"

"Well done, Harry. We'll try this particular exercise again in the future and try to increase your sensitivity. Don't get too confident; this will require a lot of practice. What you felt was considerably stronger than how I was probing you before, but don't get discouraged either, this is a very promising start. I want to to keep trying to blank your mind before you sleep."

Harry nodded.

"And finally, we must discuss what happened in Diagon Alley with Dolores Umbridge."

Harry scowled. He couldn't help it. Dumbledore did not seem offended by the scowl; in fact, he smiled a bit wryly as he saw Harry's reaction. "There's not much to discuss," he said shortly, trying not to be rude. "She attacked me, I fought back, and better. Though Tonks had really good timing when she showed up."

"Remus Lupin told me that you had seen Lucius Malfoy place her under the Imperius Curse." Dumbledore said, and his bright blue gaze gave Harry the not-unfamiliar feeling that he was being X-rayed.

"Well, yeah," Harry admitted. "But Malfoy did tell her to try and get me out of school, and having to testify at her trial would do that, wouldn't it?"

"You are quite right Harry," said Dumbledore. "I myself have considered this. But keep in mind also, if she goes free because you failed to testify, and furthermore, remains under the Imperius Curse, she would continue to be a great danger. Imprisoned in Azkaban, out of the reach of the Death Eaters, she can do little but sulk. Assuming of course, she is found guilty, and Fudge doesn't immediately commute her sentence. And you haven't even been subpoenaed by the Ministry yet. They may have gotten enough witnesses from the crowd that you are unneeded."

"But she attacked me, didn't she?" said Harry, a little bitterly. "And Fudge would love to see if he could get me in trouble somehow."

"All perfectly true. Fortunately, some of our...contacts in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement are sympathetic. Amelia Bones is a dear friend of mine, and she has promised to speak to Cornelius about this incident, though of course she cannot guarantee anything. I won't lie to you, Harry, it is likely that you will be called to give testimony. Naturally, I have a plan for such an eventuality. In the case that you are summoned, you will be escorted personally to the Ministry by Professor Vance, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Nymphadora Tonks. Also, please keep in mind that since I have been reinstated as the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, I will be presiding over the trial. Believe me, Harry, when I say that even if you have to leave the safety of Hogwarts, you will be very well protected. I cannot tell you that nothing will happen, but I have carefully arranged your route to the Ministry."

Harry nodded, feeling relieved, but he couldn't shake the feeling he had that something was going to happen at the trial. He tried to soothe those fears by reminding himself that Voldemort wouldn't dare threaten the Ministry when Dumbledore and several Aurors were there. Kingsley was well known among Aurors (according to Tonks, anyway) for being able to throw his men at ridiculous odds and somehow get them out again. Professor Vance was supposed to be one of the best Aurors currently working for the Ministry, and Harry was quite sure that Tonks was more than capable of looking after herself, near-terminal clumsiness or not. It worked a little bit, though there was something about the whole situation that was making the hair on the back of his neck stand up a little. He'd just have to be careful.

"Goodness, look at the time!" said Dumbledore, breaking into Harry's thoughts. The Headmaster was looking at his immensely complicated pocket watch in apparent surprise. "Best be off to bed, Harry, before Mr. Filch catches you out of bounds. I've kept you later than I intended. Remember to practice your Occlumency exercises every night. Good night, Harry."

"Good night, Professor," said Harry. He rose to leave, then turned on his heel to face the Headmaster again. He'd promised Hermione that he would tell Dumbledore about the incidents with wandless magic at the Burrow and on the train. "I'm sorry, Professor, but I forgot something."

"What is it?" asked Dumbledore, looking perfectly attentive.

Harry took a deep breath."Over the summer, I was practicing a spell, and I made the wand movement with my finger. I cast the spell doing that, though it wasn't full strength—it was a lightning spell, but it just made a spark. Hermione convinced me to try to cast a Stunner wandlessly, and she said that my hand glowed red for a second. And then," he said, somewhat hesitant about telling Dumbledore about the incident with Malfoy on the train, "I hit Draco Malfoy with a Battering Curse on the train and I cast it through one of Fred and George Weasley's trick wands, and I didn't say the incantation then, either. Burned out the wand, though." He hoped that a reprimand was not forthcoming, but regardless of whether or not one was, he still felt that Malfoy had deserved what he'd got.

Dumbledore had steepled his fingers and was looking intently at Harry. "That's very interesting," he said at length. "A young wizard's magic increases in potency for a few years after he begins at Hogwarts—you'll notice that spells you once struggled with become easier and easier to cast as you get older—but that increase generally ceases by fourth or, in some cases, fifth year, with the full onset of puberty. I see yours, on the other hand, has continued to increase. It is not unprecedented; my own power continued to increase until a year after I had left Hogwarts; I believe that Tom Riddle's did the same. Other students gained power up until their sixth or seventh years. But performing wandless magic is an uncommon ability, particularly in someone your age. I would keep this quiet, Harry," Dumbledore said thoughtfully. "I will be sure to mention it to Professor Vance, however, and I'll see if he has any experience. Some of the Aurors learn to cast at least two or three simple spells wandlessly—it means that if they're Disarmed, they still have some way to defend themselves. Of course," he added, "this could be a manifestation of strong emotion, similar to accidental magic in young wizards. Am I correct in assuming that young Mr. Malfoy had done something to provoke your wrath?"

"Yeah," said Harry, a bit sheepishly. "But Ron didn't do anything," he added quickly. "The first time it happened, I was just sitting in the Burrow."

"Most interesting," said Dumbledore. "Well, I shall certainly let Professor Vance know. I must say that I'm not entirely surprised by this development—you have the potential to be a very powerful wizard, Harry."

"If you don't mind my asking, Professor, who else can do wandless magic?"

"Well, I can; I believe you've seen me perform spells without a wand. Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape are also capable of it. I believe that Remus Lupin, Alastor Moody, Professor Vance, and perhaps Kingsley Shacklebolt are all capable of it, to some degree, and I'm sure that there are others whom I've forgotten."

"And Voldemort?" Harry asked apprehensively. If Voldemort could cast spells without a wand, then the twin cores would not necessarily protect him.

"Unfortunately, I know perfectly well that he can," said Dumbledore. "I have seen it for myself. But don't get too worked up over it, Harry," he added, as Harry swallowed hard. "It is much easier to cast a spell with a wand than without, even for those of use who can cast wandlessly. It is also well nigh impossible to cast a complicated spell—a wand provides both a focus for your attention and a channel that concentrates your inner magic and magnifies it. I do not believe that Voldemort will be casting wandless Killing Curses at you. And if that is truly all you wish to discuss—though I am not averse to anything else you may have on your mind—then I wish you a good night."

"Good night, Professor," Harry replied, then rose from the chair and headed back down the revolving staircase. He had no idea what time it was, though the halls were deserted, which meant that he needed to get back to Gryffindor Tower quickly, before Filch or Mrs. Norris found him. He felt reasonably confident that Dumbledore would be able to smooth things out, but that didn't mean he had any desire to listen to Filch's wheezing threats.

Harry managed to make it back to Gryffindor Tower without incident, though he'd taken some secret passages just to be on the safe side.

Ron and Hermione were waiting up in the common room when he got back. As he walked in, he realized how late it was—the room was nearly empty. Harry spotted Ron and Hermione at one of the tables in the corner, where they were sitting quietly and talking. Since they had started going out, there really hadn't been much change in their relationship with each other or with Harry, except they didn't fight nearly as much, and were generally more polite with each other than they used to be.

He walked over to them and told them about his lesson with Dumbledore, what he'd learned about Voldemort's soul bonds, and about the trial of Umbridge.

"You're taking lessons from Vance?" Ron said, sounding envious. "Wicked! Let me know some of the curses he teaches you!"

"This soul bond idea is really frightening," said Hermione, who predictably had set her mind on the complicated magic. "I need to go down to the library this weekend anyway; I'll see what I can find about it down there."

"I'm not sure you'll find anything at all about them in the library," Harry told her. "Even Dumbledore doesn't know much about them, and he told me that most of the information on them is lost."

She looked very disappointed at that.

"So when d'you begin your lessons with Vance?" Ron asked, obviously not too worried about how Voldemort had made himself immortal, and how Harry was going to kill him.

"Dunno," said Harry. "Dumbledore said that he'd talk to me in the next Defense class."

"Did you tell Dumbledore about your wandless magic?" Hermione asked, obviously having gotten over her disappointment that the library was likely to be of no help.

"Yeah, I did," said Harry. "Dumbledore said that being able to do it is an uncommon ability, but not unheard of. He's gonna have Vance work with me on it. He said it could just be a higher level of accidental magic, since I was really mad at Malfoy when I hexed him on the train."

"That's entirely possible," said Hermione thoughtfully. "But you weren't mad at Ron when you shocked him at the Burrow, were you?"

Harry shook his head. "I told Dumbledore that, too, and he seemed more interested." He didn't mention what Dumbledore had told him about its rarity at his age.

"Could you teach us how to do it?" she asked excitedly. Harry smiled.

"If I can even learn how to do it, I'll try."

"Thanks, Harry!" she said, looking more excited than ever. Ron gave Harry a look over her head that spoke volumes.

"Great. More things to study," he muttered.


	13. Chapter 13

XIII.

Spells and Stalkers

Friday was just as busy as Wednesday had been. Professor Vance approached him before class and told him that their first lesson would be that evening after dinner, in the Defense classroom. Then in Potions, Snape began the theory portion while their batches of Veritaserum cured. Surprisingly, the material was reasonably interesting, and without Snape hovering over him waiting to criticize his potion-making and Malfoy constantly trying to sabotage it, Harry found that he was able to understand at least half of what Snape was saying.

Then, after Potions, he had McGonagall's Animagus lesson, with Ron and Hermione. When he walked into the Transfiguration classroom with the two of them (Ron was somewhat hesitant), there were only three other people in the room: Ernie Macmillan, and two Ravenclaws Harry knew slightly, Anthony Goldstein and Mandy Brocklehurst.

"I see that my Animagus group is larger than usual," said Professor McGonagall as she walked in. "Most years I have only one or two students, and sometimes none. The last time I had a successful transformation was in the early eighties." Then she saw Harry, Hermione, and Ron, and smiled slightly. "Though perhaps I ought to count you three as only one, seeing as how you do everything else together."

She walked up to the front of the nearly empty classroom. "I hope you are all prepared for a lot of work. Learning to turn yourself into an animal at will and keeping your mind your own is one of the most difficult transfiguration. It is not the same as using a transfiguration spell to do it—this is based solely on innate magical power. The form you will take—and you'll only take one—reflects on your innate character, much like the form of your Patronus. Indeed, in some cases, the Animagus form is the same as the wizard's Patronus. For today, we will find out exactly what your form is. Everyone, please come over here." Professor McGonagall walked over to an alcove of the classroom that Harry had never noticed before. There were no chairs, just cushions on the stone floor, something that struck Harry as entirely out of character for Professor McGonagall. "Sit," she said. They all sat on the cushions, which were surprisingly comfortable. "Now, close your eyes. Breathe in and out slowly, and relax your mind. Try to forget your troubles and concerns." Her voice was less strident than it usually was, and Harry could feel the others start to relax slightly.

He cleared his mind and concentrated on breathing, in and out, slowly. It was very similar to what he did every night for his Occlumency exercises. Harry had little trouble doing it now. Both Ron and Hermione, on the other hand, seemed tense still.

"Now, I am going to cast a spell on you that will reveal your Animagus form by turning you into that animal for a short time." Her voice sounded oddly muffled, as though it was filtered through thick cloth as she spoke. Harry continued concentrating on his breathing, but opened his eyes. Professor McGonagall was standing in front of Ernie Macmillan. "Macmillan, you first." She pointed her wand at Ernie, who started for a moment, then settled down again. "_Ferevelio!_" There was a flash of white light, and suddenly, where Ernie had been sitting a moment ago, there was instead a large brown boar, looking somewhat confused. Before it could do anything else, the boar was enveloped by a cloud of white smoke. When it had cleared, Ernie was sitting there again.

"A boar, Macmillan" said Professor McGonagall. "Your turn, Weasley." She pointed her wand at Ron and said the incantation.

There was another flash of light, and suddenly, there was a very large golden retriever with blue eyes and red fur the same color as Ron's hair. A few seconds later, with another cloud of smoke, Ron reappeared.

"That was wicked!" he whispered to Harry, who was sitting next to him.

Then it was his turn. Professor McGonagall pointed her wand at him and said the incantation—

_His body was long and lean, and he could smell _everything._ The room lost color and things seemed a little less focused, but it didn't matter; he could hear and smell everything around him. He could hear muffled conversation through the closed door of the classroom and could smell the spot of potato salad that Ron had spilled on his shirt at lunch, could smell the slightly doggy scent left behind by his transformation, could smell the wood of McGonagall's wand which was still pointed at him—_

And then he was back in his body and the smoke cleared, and McGonagall looked a little taken aback as she said, "A wolf, Mr. Potter. Most impressive." Then she moved on to Hermione, who was practically quivering with excitement now.

Hermione wound up turning into a red fox, except with brown fur, and her tail was even bushier than that of a normal fox.

The other two, Anthony Goldstein and Mandy Brocklehurst had their turns, and Anthony wound up as a badger, while Mandy turned into a sparrow, by far the smallest of the forms.

"Now that you have your forms," she said, "I want you to take a few minutes each day, and do what you did today. Clear your mind, relax your bodies, and just think about the animal whose form you have taken. Concentrate very closely on it; having a picture will be very useful. Try to memorize everything about it, because when you attempt the transformation for the first time, you will need to have that perfect image of your form in your mind."

Hermione raised her hand. "When will we attempt the transformation, Professor?"

Professor McGonagall smiled slightly. "Not for quite some time, Miss Granger. We have yet to start human transfiguration in class, and we won't get into it until after we've done a fair amount of work on it. I won't lie to you," she said, addressing the whole group now. "It is very likely that none of you will be able to do the Animagus transformation. It is very tricky, and a very slow process. We will work up to the full transformation by transfiguring your limbs into those of the animal first, one at a time, and then moving up from there. For now, however, you are all dismissed. Be sure to meditate upon your form for at least a few minutes every day. We won't meet again for some time, until we've started human transfiguration in class."

"You looked really impressive, mate," said Ron as they walked out. "Hard to beat a pure black wolf with green eyes. Except for your scar—that was a white streak right over your right eye. What was it like being a wolf? Anything like being a dog?"

"Kind of," said Harry, though honestly he had no idea what it was like to be a dog, and thought that wolves might be just a _bit _different. "I could smell everything and hear everything. I've never _seen_ smells before."

"I could too," said Hermione. "We were all fairly similar animals—I mean, dogs and wolves are the same species, and foxes are pretty closely related."

"What was it like being a fox?" asked Harry, interested.

Hermione hesitated. "I felt like I could do anything. Like I was weightless. I could run as fast as I wanted, jump anywhere, outsmart anyone."

"Well, foxes are really agile," said Ron knowledgeably. "They're right fast little buggers. We've got a few in the woods at home. You get one look at them, and they're gone. But being a dog was _great_. I had a tail and I could smell like you wouldn't believe. Or maybe you would," he amended, as both Harry and Hermione looked at him, eyebrows raised. "I could smell that Ernie had dropped part of a ham and chicken sandwich on himself, smell that Hermione uses lavender-scented shampoo"—Hermione blushed at this—"and, well...I don't know how to say it, mate, but you really need to change your socks."

Hermione laughed, and Harry punched Ron in the shoulder, chuckling. "Git," he said. Ron was much more enthusiastic about doing the lessons than he had been before the meeting.

"It would be great if we could all learn to do it, wouldn't it?" gushed Hermione. "Of course, it's really difficult..."

"My dad, Sirius, and Wormtail managed it, and Wormtail's a pretty pathetic wizard," said Harry. It_ would _be useful to be an Animagus. It was a great way to surprise your enemy. No one expected the wizard they were facing to suddenly turn into a hundred-fifty pound wolf, complete with teeth and claws. Of course, there was the small matter of registering it with the Ministry; he was sure that Professor McGonagall would be completely inflexible on that point, but maybe there was a way around it.

***

At dinner that night, Katie Bell took Harry, Ron, and Ginny aside to tell them that tryouts for that year's Gryffindor team would be the next morning at nine o'clock sharp. Though she didn't have the single-mindedness that Oliver Wood had been (in)famous for, or the temper of Angelina Johnson, she had still hardened a little once she'd gotten the captain's badge. She personally warned Harry that if he kept getting detentions the way he had last year, they would have to find a new Seeker. Harry was a bit taken aback by this, given that Katie had always been the most mild-mannered of the team, without Angelina's temper, Oliver's obsessiveness, Alicia's sarcasm, or the undiluted chaos of Fred and George.

As they ate dinner, Ron told Ginny about their Animagus lesson. Predictably, she was very interested. "Oh, I wish I was a sixth year," she exclaimed upon hearing about their transformations. "Will you lot tell me how you do it when you learn?"

At this, Ron rolled his eyes, obviously skeptical about his sister's ability to do the transformation, but surprisingly, kept his peace.

"I don't know," said Hermione. "I don't think Professor McGonagall would approve of it—after all, we're just learning, too. Maybe if we manage to do it."

"Yeah, that sounds reasonable," said Harry, and felt his stomach backflip again as Ginny beamed at him, though his sudden elation was a bit dampened by Ron's glower. "But it'll have to wait awhile, though I suppose we could do the form-revealing spell over winter break. She didn't do much more than tell us to meditate on our form every day and reveal the form for a little bit."

"What were you?" she asked, interested.

"I was a black wolf, Ron was a red-haired golden retriever, with spots on his muzzle, and Hermione was a red fox, except she was brown. And her tail was even busher than a real fox's," he added, grinning at Hermione, who swatted him on the arm.

"Ooh, I wonder what I'll be," Ginny breathed.

"Professor McGonagall said that it would reflect something about yourself, like your Patronus," said Hermione. "What is your Patronus, anyway, Ginny?"

Ginny shrugged. "I've never been able to make a real Patronus," she said, a bit regretfully. "I really tried during the D.A., but for some reason, I was never able to make more than vapor."

"I could give you a hand in that too," said Harry before he could stop himself, and had to turn his face away from Hermione, who was giving him an uncomfortably penetrating look. Even Ron, who had been concentrating on his food and only half-listening to the conversation had perked up, and was glancing between Ginny and Harry.

If Ginny noticed this, though, she didn't give any indication. Instead, she said calmly, "That would be great, Harry."

As they headed out of the Great Hall and parted ways with Ginny, Ron rounded on Harry. "What did you do that for?" he demanded.

"Do what for?" Harry said, knowing perfectly well what Ron meant.

"Offer to teach her to become an Animagus! She hasn't even taken her O.W.L.s yet!"

"Oh, she'll be able to handle it," said Hermione, jumping to Harry's rescue.

"How do you know?" Ron said, frowning.

"Because she's one of the best in her year at Transfiguration," said Hermione. "The Animagus transformation is simply very complex Transfiguration magic." Ron shook his head, but didn't continue the argument, to Harry's slight surprise.

He bade farewell to Ron and Hermione at the entrance to the Defense classroom, where they left to (allegedly) go on their Prefects rounds, though Harry strongly suspected that they were merely sneaking into broom closets and abandoned classrooms for a bit of alone time. Smirking to himself, he knocked on the door of the classroom.

"Come in," called Professor Vance, and Harry opened the door and went inside.

Professor Vance was seated at his desk, obviously marking papers, a disgruntled look on his face. When Harry came in, he looked up, put down his quill, and grinned. "Ah, Potter," he said. "Excellent. A dueling lesson will be a pleasant distraction from the tedium of correcting first-year Defense homework." He pointed to one of two sturdy-looking wooden chairs sitting in front of his desk. "Have a seat."

Harry sat down and waited while Professor Vance looked at him very closely, but said nothing. At length, he said, "Well, then. Based on our little duel in class, you seem to have an excellent knowledge of basic offensive and defensive spells. Your reflexes are very good, and there's a lot of power behind your spells—you probably noticed that I had a little trouble deflecting some of them. The Percussion Hex you sent at me was very strong in particular."

"What was that spell you knocked me out with?" Harry asked. "And how did you cast that fireball spell? I've never seen those before."

Professor Vance smirked. "Well, I can tell you that you certainly won't find them in the Standard Book of Spells. Come over here." He got up from behind his desk and came around to the middle of the room, moving desks aside with his wand as he moved. Harry got up and followed him to the clearing he'd made. Professor Vance raised his wand and started waving it while reciting words Harry couldn't understand. After a little while, he stopped. "Just putting up a ward. Burning everything in the room to ashes wouldn't look very good on my next employee evaluation. All right. The wand movement is complicated, so watch closely." Harry watched as Professor Vance made the graceful and complex twirl that had presaged the fireball. After a couple of demonstrations, he gestured at Harry, and Harry tried his hand at it.

"Like this?" he asked, attempting to twirl his wand like the Professor had.

"Not quite. The second loop has to be larger, and your ending flourish needs to be a little smaller. Try again."

He put Harry through the motions six times before he was satisfied that Harry could make the complicated twirl. "Good. Now, the incantation is_ Ignis Conglomo_. Like this." Professor Vance moved his wand and shouted the incantation. A large fireball leaped from his wand and flew across the classroom, but vanished as it drew near to a stack of desks. "Your turn," he said.

Harry twirled his wand. "_Ignis Conglomo!_" he shouted, and to his satisfaction, a small fireball flew across the room, until it reached the same point as Professor Vance's had, and disappeared.

"Well done, Potter," said Professor Vance, looking impressed. "That's a difficult spell to work. With a little more practice, you can make the fireball larger—yours was smaller than mine. All right, the other spell, the spell that I knocked you out with, is much harder to block or deflect. You probably remember it went right through your Shield Charm. It's similar to a Battering Curse, but it also knocks the target out, and they won't wake up for a few hours unless Ennervated. The Stunner only knocks them out for a few minutes. We call it the Incapacitation Spell. It'll usually blast the target off their feet, too. It's pretty nasty, and generally only taught to Aurors and members of the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol. The wand movement is much simpler than the fireball spell. Observe." He jabbed his wand forward in a corkscrewing motion and shouted, "_Converro!_" The silver jet shot across the room, but instead of vanishing like the fireballs had, it hit one of the desks, which was blasted against the wall and shattered into several pieces.

"Oops," said Professor Vance, a bit sheepishly. "Careful where you aim, Potter, I guess my ward can't stop it," he warned. "And it may take a few tries to really get it, it requires a decent bit of magic behind it."

Harry, nodded, then made sure that his wand was pointed at a blank bit of wall. He thrust his wand out in the same corkscrewing jab that Professor Vance had, and shouted, "_Converro!_" Nothing happened. He looked at Professor Vance, who merely shrugged.

"Try again," he suggested.

"_Converro!_" Harry shouted again, putting more force into his shout, willing the silver jet to appear, and this time it did, but feebler and dimmer than the bright silver light that Professor Vance had performed.

"That's better, Potter," he said approvingly. "Keep trying."

In the end, it took Harry another half hour of trying before he could properly cast the Incapacitation Curse.

"Well done, Potter," said Professor Vance as Harry finally managed to blow a desk to bits—Professor Vance had decided that Harry needed a target—with his curse. "You're picking these up much faster than most wizards would; we've still got some time before you've got to get back to Gryffindor Tower." He stroked his chin momentarily, then nodded slightly to himself. "All right. I wasn't going to start you on silent casting until I started the class on them, but you're pretty far along when it comes to hexes and dueling, so let's start now. Dumbledore told me earlier that you'd done a bit of it already, and some wandless magic as well, correct?"

"Yeah," said Harry, "but most of the time it was on acccident."

"Still," said Professor Vance. "Wandless magic's pretty impressive for a sixteen year old wizard. Anyway, we'll start with silent spells." He moved a couple yards away from Harry. "Try to Stun me, Potter, without saying anything. Don't worry," he added, at Harry's questioning look. "I'll block it."

"Okay," said Harry doubtfully. It felt strange to try to curse one of his Professors, though, he admitted to himself, it would be _very _satisfying to curse Snape. He pointed his wand at Professor Vance and shouted as loud as he could in his head, "_Stupefy!_"

Nothing happened.

Again, he focused himself and yelled the incantation in his mind. Still nothing.

Three more times he tried to do it, and failed. He'd tried so hard that there were little bright dots swimming in front of his eyes, and sweat was trickling down his forehead. He wiped it away with his sleeve, and raised his wand for a sixth try, but Professor Vance raised his hand.

"Hold on. You're trying too hard," he said. Harry raised his eyebrows. Professor Vance saw, and chuckled. "Don't worry, it's a common mistake. Try to relax a little, ease your mind up. You're pushing so hard that it's getting all backed up. Do an Occlumency exercise for a bit, and then try again. That's how I learned to properly do silent spells."

Harry closed his eyes and forced his breathing to slow, willing his mind to calm down. He focused on the blank gray wall Dumbledore had suggested and let his mind relax. He felt a bit better, and the bright spots in his vision disappeared. He opened his eyes again.

"Good," said Professor Vance. "Now, don't push, don't strain, but just let the magic _flow_."

Harry raised his wand again, and thought, _Stupefy! _

To his delight, the familiar red jet of light flew at Professor Vance, who grinned as he deflected it into his ward. "Very good, very good indeed," he said, still grinning. "To be sure, it wasn't quite as strong as your spoken Stunner, but all you need is some practice and mental discipline. Let's try something harder; see what you can do. Try a Battering Curse."

Obediently, Harry quickly relaxed his mind again. Professor Dumbledore's method of Occlumency was a godsend—it was becoming easier and easier for him to relax himself and focus. He raised his wand and thought, _Everbero!_ The Battering Curse erupted from his wand and was deflected by Professor Vance, though instead of the usual deep blue, it was an anemic-looking sky blue, and it seemed smaller.

"Excellent, Potter," said Professor Vance, looking downright delighted. "I'm impressed. Auror material, and no mistake," he added, grinning. It was amazing how that grin transformed the normally serious-looking Professor's lined, grim face into something almost boyish. Harry recalled that Ron had mentioned something about Professor Vance knowing his father.

"Professor," Harry began. "I heard that you worked with my father."

"I did," he said, nodding, the grin slipping from his face. "I was a few years ahead of him at Hogwarts. When he started, I was a fifth year. I still thank God I didn't get the badge—he was a holy terror from the moment he was Sorted. Him and Sirius Black, and later Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew." He chuckled sadly. "I served as your father's mentor in the Aurors."

Harry sat up straighter.

"A mentor is like a teacher of sorts. Every newly-minted Auror was paired with a more senior Auror as his partner. When he finished at the Academy, I had been an Auror for five years. During peacetime, I would still be a relative newbie, but in wartime... well, the average survival time for an Auror straight out of the Academy was less than a year. It was considered remarkable for a new Auror to survive two, and I was the only one of my class to survive the entire war."

"Were things really that bad?" Harry asked. He had never heard anyone speak of the first war against Voldemort from the point of view of someone who had been out on the front lines, fighting toe-to-toe with Death Eaters. Professor Vance's face took on a faraway look, as he recalled his experiences.

"They were worse. The attrition rate was horrible. Take your average Auror. They're very well-trained, talented, powerful wizards. Take your average Death Eater. He's practically in thrall to Voldemort, whether because he agrees with him, blackmail or death threats, or sometimes, the Imperius Curse. He's not trained very well, he's not a particularly powerful or talented wizard. But he and all his fellows were willing to throw themselves at Aurors in droves. No matter how powerful one wizard is, there's only so many Killing Curses he can dodge. At the beginning of the war, there were sixty Aurors in the Department. At the end, there were less than twenty, including myself. And this was with new Aurors being inducted every year! The department's never really recovered. We're still below fifty active Aurors. For the Wizarding community in Britain, the war was the most devastating in the last four hundred years. Hundreds of wizards and witches died the last time Voldemort tried to seize power. If you hadn't come along when you did..."

He sighed and looked even older. "I can understand why Fudge reacted the way he did. I certainly can't condone it, but I can understand. No one wants to live through that again. But it doesn't look like we have a choice." Professor Vance paused for a moment, then continued, his lined face looking even grimmer. "Dumbledore asked me specifically to teach you everything I know about Death Eaters, about what spells they use, about their dueling styles, and how to counter them. So here's the first lesson: Voldemort's favorite way to get rid of a particularly annoying Auror was to have his spies in the Ministry find out everything they could about the Auror. Then, when they knew he was off-duty or alone, he'd send a hit squad. Usually a few of his regular Death Eaters would try to catch the Auror off-guard, and sometimes that worked. With powerful Aurors, though, like Artemisia Finch—it took six Death Eaters to kill her and she took three of them with her—and Hadrian Willoughby, usually one of his inner circle would be used. Bellatrix Lestrange, for example; she was his favorite hatchet witch. Or Antonin Dolohov. If the lesser Death Eaters couldn't kill their target, one of the big names would come in. Dolohov, Lestrange, Lucius Malfoy, the Carrow siblings--they were the truly frightening Death Eaters, because they were the ones capable of matching skills with an Auror."

"But there were only twelve or thirteen in the graveyard when Voldemort was"—Harry suppressed a shudder of revulsion at the memory—"reborn."

"He didn't waste the Dark Mark on what he perceived as expendable flunkies," said Professor Vance. "He only gave it to those he felt were worthy of it. Those Death Eaters whose skills were sufficient to kill ordinary Magical Law Enforcement Patrol members and even to give Aurors a run for their money. I dueled Dolohov when Voldemort sent him and Wilkes after me. I barely got away. I did manage to kill Wilkes—he was one of the three inner circle Death Eaters I killed."

There was a sudden chime as a small clock Harry hadn't noticed before struck the hour--it was nine o'clock, and he had to be back in Gryffindor Tower or risk the wrath of Filch.

"Well, time for bed, Potter," said Professor Vance, smiling tiredly. "I hope I haven't terrified you too much. I tend to be gloomy when I talk about the first war. I'll see you in class, and our next lesson will be this same time next week. Have a good weekend, Potter. Remember what I said."

Harry nodded and opened the door of the classroom. Professor Vance was already back at his desk, going through the first year Defense homework that he'd been working on before Harry had arrived. Harry paused for a second, then left the classroom. Filch was nowhere to be seen, and he padded quietly down the hallway, stopping every so often to listen for the caretaker's distinctive wheeze. As he made his way through the fourth floor hallway, Harry thought he heard something behind him and quickly turned around, wondering if perhaps Mrs. Norris had found him. There was no one there. Shaking it off, he turned back around and continued towards Gryffindor Tower.

Harry had almost reached the portrait of the Fat Lady when he caught movement out of the corner of his eye and his ring flared with heat. He whirled around to the right, drawing his wand as he turned, a spell already on his lips. There, in the shadows, was a darker shadow in the shape of a person. Harry squinted, but couldn't make out any details at all, let alone who it might have been. He pointed his wand at the shape, and murmured, "_Lumos!_" The tip of his wand erupted with silver light, and he caught a glimpse of a black cloak as the figure fled down the hallway, but he didn't see anything to identify them.

Harry stood for a second in the silver glow of his wandlight, considering his options. He could follow the person, and see which way they went. Of course, without his Invisibility Cloak, he would run the very real risk of encountering Filch. Or he could go into Gryffindor Tower and get his cloak, but by then the figure would be long gone. Well, there was nothing for it, then. Glancing over his shoulder, he followed the shadowy figure's path.

Running as silently as he could down the hallway where the shadowy figure had been, Harry peered ahead into the darkness. The...whatever it was had a slight lead on him, and he could hear the slight flapping sound of the figure's cloak as it ran ahead of him. He followed the figure through the seventh floor hallway and down a winding staircase. When he emerged into another hallway, Harry could no longer see the figure, nor hear any sounds, and in fact, was unsure for a moment as to exactly where in the castle he was. Then, recognizing a few portraits, he realized he was on the fifth floor corridor, near where Fred and George had let loose their swamp last spring. Harry could see a dark puddle on the floor, and smiled as he realized that it was the small remnant Flitwick had left behind to commemorate an impressive bit of magic.

Harry scanned the corridor for the dark figure, but it was nowhere to be seen, and he hadn't the slightest idea where whoever it was might have gone. He lifted his wand and lit it up again, but the added light didn't do anything to aid him in his search. There were no doors ajar, no suspicious bulges under tapestries, nor were there any footprints on the floor or oddly shaped shadows on the wall. Still suspicious, he made one final sweep with his wand, then headed back up the stairs, checking over his shoulder every now and then both for signs of the mysterious figure or Filch or another professor. He made it back to Gryffindor Tower without incident, and ignored the reproachful look of the Fat Lady as he muttered the password and climbed in the portrait hole.

Ron and Hermione were curled up together on one of the overstuffed sofas in front of the fire, and Ron poked his head up as Harry came in.

"How'd the lesson go, mate?"

Harry shrugged. "Taught me a couple spells, and then told me about the first war." He told them what Professor Vance had told him about how the first war against Voldemort had gone.

"Blimey," said Ron, eyes wide. "Didn't realize it was that bad."

"The history books glossed over how many Aurors were killed and how many Death Eaters V...Voldemort had," said Hermione. "I guess they didn't want people to know how bad it was and how close the Ministry was to defeat."

"There's another thing," said Harry. "I was coming up to the portrait, and I saw someone following me."

Both Ron and Hermione perked up at that. "Who?" asked Ron

"No idea. He knew I spotted him, and I chased him down the stairs to the fifth floor, and then he disappeared."

"This is serious, Harry," said Hermione, her eyes wide with concern. "When Professor Vance told you about how Voldemort liked to hunt Aurors...well, it sounds like this is what might be happening to you! A shadowy figure following you around at night, when you're alone? You need to tell Professor Dumbledore about it!"

"A Death Eater inside Hogwarts?" said Ron incredulously. "Come off it, Hermione! D'you really think one of them could get past Dumbledore? Or d'you reckon You-Know-Who himself is following Harry 'round the castle?"

Harry sighed and put up both his hands as Hermione started to open her mouth to retort. "I already thought of that, Hermione. And I will tell Dumbledore, but I don't want to just sit around and wait for something to happen. I want to find out why someone's stalking me 'round the castle!" He threw himself down in one of the armchairs. "Anyway, it's too late for tonight. He's gone, and I'm worn out from the lesson."

"Don't forget, we have Quidditch tryouts tomorrow," said Ron excitedly.

He'd forgotten about Quidditch, but remembering that he would get to fly tomorrow put a smile on his face. "Maybe we'll get some better Beaters, too, huh? Sloper and Kirke were pants at the job."

This of course launched Ron into a tirade against his two former teammates, and although Harry thought it was a bit rich of Ron to criticize them when he himself had had abysmal performance for most of the year, he couldn't help but agree that Sloper and Kirke were nothing like Fred and George had been. Hermione, immediately put off by the change of subject to Quidditch, had gone over to a table and buried her nose in one of her books, a hefty-looking tome with the title of _Advanced Arithmantic Theory_.

Ron's Quidditch monologues were always useful for him to do a little thinking, Harry had found. All he had to do was nod at appropriate points and occasionally pepper that with murmurs of assent or sometimes a "yeah" or "definitely". Hermione always left as soon as the subject of Quidditch came up, so she was unable to disrupt him, and thus Harry was able to really consider for the first time what had happened tonight. He quickly ran through a list of possible suspects in his head, and came up with some familiar names. Malfoy or Crabbe or Goyle were definite possibilities, although they couldn't possibly have known about his lesson with Professor Vance.

The Defense professor was another possible suspect, Harry had to admit; as much as he liked the man thus far, he'd been burned too many times in the past to immediately trust any professor, especially in such a precarious position as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. Also suspicious was the professor's ability to use the Killing Curse, though it seemed to affect him more than it did any Death Eater Harry had seen use it. And then there was what Ron had said about Death Eaters in the castle--despite the fact that Ron had meant it sarcastically, Harry had learned the hard way that Dumbledore was not infallible. As powerful a wizard as the Headmaster was, Sirius had been able to get into the castle third year, and under the guise of Polyjuice Potion, Barty Crouch Jr. had been able to infiltrate the castle for nearly a full school year. Of course, there was always the chance that Professor Vance was a Polyjuiced Death Eater.

Harry stood up, interrupting Ron in the middle of a sentence about the Chudley Cannons and their chances for winning the Cup this year. He needed to talk to Dumbledore about what he had seen, there was no doubt about that. The Headmaster had promised to be as candid with him as possible, and it seemed only fair that Harry reciprocate. He knew that Dumbledore was likely to be awake, and that he would want to know that Harry was being stalked.

"What's up, mate?" said Ron, puzzled by Harry's sudden movement.

"I need to talk to Dumbledore," he said shortly.

"Are you sure it's a good idea to be roaming the halls when you know there's someone following you?" asked Hermione, looking up from her book.

"I'll use the cloak," said Harry, as he climbed the stairs towards the sixth-year dormitory. He opened the door and went to his trunk. Neville was awake, but seemed to be buried in a book, and barely acknowledged Harry as he came in. Dean's curtains were closed, and Seamus was nowhere to be seen. It occurred to Harry that he'd seen very little of Seamus since the year had begun; he had no idea where the fifth Gryffindor boy could be. He found it somewhat worrying, but pushed it away as he opened his trunk and began rummaging, searching for the familiar shimmering material of his father's Invisibility Cloak, which had passed from Dumbledore's possession to Harry's during his first year. Finally, he found it under a pile of books and pulled it out, checking to make sure that Neville didn't see it. He wasn't sure if Neville knew about the cloak or not, but it didn't hurt to be careful. Stowing it surreptitiously in his pocket, he closed his trunk and left the dormitory.

Back down in the common room, he pulled it out of his pocket and, making sure that he, Ron, and Hermione were the only ones present, he swept it over his shoulders.

"Be careful, Harry," said Hermione, looking slightly off to the left of where he was standing.

"Good luck, mate," added Ron, walking over to the table to join Hermione.

Harry exposed his hand and waved to show that he'd heard them, then pulled it back under his cloak, made his way to the portrait, opened it, and stepped out.


	14. Chapter 14

XIV.

The Pensieve Revisited

As usual, the Fat Lady was confused when she felt her portrait open and saw no student exit, but Harry, as usual, ignored her questions, and walked down the hallway. The castle was as silent and dark as it had been before, but this time, Harry knew that there was someone else sneaking around in the darkness, a danger other than Filch and Mrs. Norris. He couldn't help but look over his shoulder on occasion, but never saw anything.

Realizing that he would need some sort of light, Harry started to pull out his wand, but then realized that the bright white light would be easily visible, so instead, he moved his hand out of the cloak, and whispered, _"Lumos!"_. He was rewarded by a red light coming from the stone on his father's Auror ring, and illuminating the hallway. It was much dimmer than his wandlight would have been, but it provided sufficient light for Harry to find his way.

Like the entrance to Gryffindor Tower, the entrance to Professor Dumbledore's office was located on the seventh floor, but on the opposite side of the castle. Keeping an eye out for Filch, Harry started towards Dumbledore's office. He took pains to walk as silently as possible--his Invisibility Cloak didn't prevent him from making noise. Fortunately, however, there was still no sign of Filch or Mrs. Norris, and he covered the distance quickly.

The familiar stone gargoyle at the entrance to Dumbledore's office obligingly leaped out of his way when he gave the password that he'd used Wednesday night--Harry hadn't been sure if the password had been changed. He stepped onto the moving spiral staircase, and heard the gargoyle jump back into place. At the top, there was a light under the door, as he'd expected, and this time, Harry didn't hear any voices, so he let the cloak slip from his shoulders and knocked softly on the door, ignoring the larger (and louder) griffin-shaped knocker.

"Come in," came Dumbledore's voice, and Harry opened the door and stepped in. Dumbledore was perusing a stack of parchment on his desk with a quill in his hand, but when he heard the door open, he looked up, and upon seeing Harry, smiled. "Ah, Harry. To what do I owe the honor of this late visit?" The headmaster gestured to one of the comfortable armchairs in front of his desk and Harry sat down. He thought for a second how to breach the subject, then decided to get right to the point.

"I was coming back from my lesson with Professor Vance," he began.

"And how was the lesson?" Dumbledore asked.

"Interesting," said Harry, wondering why he'd been sidetracked. "He taught me a couple of spells and started me on silent casting. He also told me about the last war."

"A very dark time," said Dumbledore solemnly, the smile slipping from his face. "But that's not what you came to talk about," he added, leaning back in his chair and closing his eyes.

Harry felt a brush on his mind and quickly focused on a blank wall, composing himself and forcing his anxiety to quiet itself. A moment later, he felt a distinct pressure as Dumbledore's mind touched his own more forcefully. It wasn't a particularly strong probe, but if Harry hadn't reacted, Dumbledore would have easily been able to reach in and extract the information.

The headmaster opened his eyes and smiled again. "Well done, Harry," he said encouragingly. "Very well done, indeed. Now, what did you want to tell me?"

"Well, I was leaving my lesson with Professor Vance," Harry began again. "I thought I heard something behind me, and stopped and looked around, but I couldn't see anyone. And then when I got near Gryffindor Tower, I saw something move out of the corner of my eye. I turned to look, and there was someone standing in the shadows. I lit up my wand to try and see them, but they knew I saw them and ran, and all I saw was a black cloak. I tried to catch up with them, but he--she---_it_ disappeared in the fifth floor corridor where Fred and George Weasley made their swamp last year."

Dumbledore remained silent for a moment, then asked, "Did you get a look at their face? Anything distinctive about their appearance, perhaps?"

"Not that I can remember, sir," said Harry.

Dumbledore appeared to consider for a moment. "Perhaps the Pensieve will help us shed some light on your mysterious figure. It may well allow us to pick up a detail that your subconscious noticed but you yourself may have overlooked."

"But sir, if I can't remember any details, how will the Pensieve help?"

"Ah, now _that _is the beauty of a Pensieve," said Dumbledore happily, as he rose from his chair and disappeared into a closet. "It doesn't just replay your memory in three dimensions, it magically reaches back in time and recreates the entire scene, allowing one to carefully examine what happened and pick up on minute details that are otherwise easily missed." Several scraps of parchment fell out of the closet, and then there was a loud thud, followed by a cloud of dust. He heard Dumbledore cough, then a moment later, the Headmaster emerged triumphant with the Pensieve in his hands. Brushing some dust from his robes, Dumbledore gestured to Harry. "Now, think of the memory, and as you do, raise your wand to your temple and twirl it gently. It may take a couple tries the first time."

Harry obediently raised his wand to his temple, and focused on his memory of seeing the figure in the hallway. He twirled his wand and felt an indescribable _pulling _sensation. It was so bizarre a feeling that he dropped his wand. Immediately, there was a feeling of something being pulled back into his head.

"Ah," said Dumbledore apologetically. "Perhaps I should have warned you. It is a very strange sensation that takes some getting used to. Try again, and this time, focus harder on the memory. I find that doing that can sometimes reduce the sensation of pulling it out."

Again, Harry raised his wand to his temple, and this time, he concentrated more carefully on what he remembered. He focused on the jolt of adrenaline he'd felt when he realized that he was being watched, on the silvery light of his wand showing the figure and the black cloak they were wearing. He slowly drew his wand away from his temple and again, there was the pulling sensation, but it seemed dulled this time. As he reached the end of the memory (himself standing confused in the fifth floor corridor), Harry felt the pulling sensation stop, and he looked at his wand. There was a silvery thread wrapped around it, and even as it shimmered in the candlelight, Harry felt the details of the memory fade and try as he might, he couldn't remember exactly what had happened. He knew there was something about a cloak and a person in the shadows, but nothing else.

"Now," said Dumbledore, "put it in the Pensieve." Harry moved his wand over the Pensieve, and not knowing exactly how to release the thread of memory, gave it a bit of a shake. The silvery thread slithered off his wand and fell into the material in the Pensieve without a splash. "Excellent," said Dumbledore, smiling. "Undoubtedly, you have noticed that you can no longer remember details of that memory." Harry nodded. "Not to worry, as soon as you view the memory in the Pensieve, you will find it replaced in your mind, and in all likelihood, clearer and more accurate. Now, let's see exactly what it is you saw tonight."

Together, Harry and Dumbledore leaned forward, staring into the Pensieve's surface, and even as Harry watched, he saw the surface of the material swirl and the dark figure appeared. Then there was a brief falling sensation and he felt himself tumbling into a black void, and then there he was, leaving Professor Vance's office, heading along the corridor. He followed his past self along.

"Why were you stopping?" asked Professor Dumbledore.

"Listening for Fi... Mr. Filch, sir," said Harry, and Dumbledore shook his head. Harry suspected he was hiding a grin.

They continued along, and then, there was a distinct sound of...Harry wasn't sure what it was, but it was definitely there. Past-Harry suddenly stopped and started looking around. "I presume that this is where you heard the noise," said Professor Dumbledore. "Let's have a look around." With that, he raised his wand and shouted, "_Intercapedo!_" There was a flash of light, and Harry closed his eyes against the glare. When he opened them again, he was quite astonished to see that his memory had been frozen in time.

"Impressive, isn't it?" said Dumbledore, looking around. "A Pensive is a truly extraordinary magical object. I believe the art of making them has been lost, and there are few remaining. A great pity." He started looking around, and after a moment, Harry followed suit. "I'm afraid there's not much we can do if this person is hiding behind a door or a curtain, since, as I'm sure you've noticed in your Pensieve exploits, you can't interact with the memory in any way. However, if he is near enough to you, then he will be included in the projection..." Dumbledore's voice trailed off as he walked around the corner, and a moment later, Harry heard him say, "Aha! Come and have a look over here, Harry!"

Harry walked over to the corner from which Dumbledore's voice had come. Looking around the corner, he had to suppress a gasp. There, seemingly staring right at him, pressed up against the wall, was the figure. However, whoever it was had the hood of their cloak up over their face, and try as he might, Harry couldn't see their features. Dumbledore was closely examining the cut of the cloak and the build of the figure, and Harry could hear him muttering to himself, but couldn't make out the words.

"I believe we should resume the memory and stay with this fellow and see exactly what happens," said Dumbledore, at length. "We can figure out exactly how he 'disappeared', and perhaps even gain a clue as to his identity." He raised his wand again, and shouted "_Recolere!_" There was another bright flash of light. At first, Harry didn't think anything had happened, since the figure seemed just as still as it had been a moment ago, but then he heard his past self's footsteps continue, and the figure leaned forward to peer around the corner to ascertain that past-Harry was truly moving on. Satisfied, the figure slipped around the corner in silence, and Harry and Dumbledore followed.

The intruder's movement was very impressive, Harry noted. Whoever it was was making a conscious effort to remain as silent as possible, and was also adept at finding shadows in which to disappear. His movements were swift and sure, and a shiver went down Harry's spine at how competently the figure moved. This was no random stalker, and watching the way the intruder moved, Harry suspected that luck was the only reason that he had noticed the figure in his peripheral vision, and said so to Dumbledore. Dumbledore nodded his agreement, and added, "There are only a few people that are trained to move and stalk like this. That includes the Aurors as well as senior members of the Magical Law Enforcement Squad. My suspicions rest with them at the moment."

They hurried up the stairs after the figure, and Harry lost sight of it a few times as it disappeared into shadow momentarily or concealed itself behind a tapestry. He still had no idea who it could possibly be, but whoever it was, their intentions did not seem friendly. Taking a look at their surroundings, Harry realized that they were getting close to Gryffindor Tower, and sure enough, he saw his past self approaching the hallway that led to the Fat Lady's portrait. When Past-Harry took out his wand and lit it, Dumbledore froze the memory again.

"Now, Harry," he said, "let us examine exactly what is going on here." He walked over to the figure, and carefully examined it. Harry noticed for the first time that the upper part of the figure's face was visible, and he followed Dumbledore over and examined the eyes. He didn't know if it was something to do with the memory, but the man's--it was definitely a man; Harry could see part of his mustache--brown eyes seemed oddly clouded and distant, something that he'd seen before in victims of the Imperius Curse.

"Look at his eyes, sir. They look..."

"Yes," said Dumbledore, examining the man's eyes carefully. "It looks as though our intruder is under the Imperius Curse. Now, we must find out how he escaped. Be prepared to move as soon as I unfreeze it." With those words, Dumbledore raised his wand and unfroze the memory. A second after he did, the figure turned around and dashed away "Quickly, Harry!" With that, the headmaster chased off down the hallway after the man, and Harry, after a confused moment, followed suit.

_Dumbledore can really move for a bloke who's a century and a half old,_ Harry thought to himself. He kept up with Dumbledore, but the older man showed no signs of tiring, even as they ran down the stairs, barely keeping the man in their sight. A moment later, they burst into the fifth-floor corridor where the man had disappeared originally, just in time to see him pull a wand and then disappear from sight a split second before past-Harry sprinted into the hallway, and lit his wand, looking confused. Then, the entire scene faded to black, and Harry felt himself lifting out of the Pensieve. A moment later, he and Dumbledore were back in Dumbledore's office, standing in front of his desk.

"That was most enlightening," said Dumbledore thoughtfully, "but at the same time it raises many questions. How did he get in? Who is he? Who put the Imperius Curse on him?" Dumbledore paced around his office for a minute, muttering to himself. "I think it is best that you make absolutely sure you don't go anywhere alone, or at least, without your cloak and wand ready at all times, until we clear this up," he said at last.

Harry felt irritation welling up inside him, but forced it down, nodding instead. Dumbledore smiled sympathetically. "I know you hate being told to sit and be careful, dear boy, but I must impress upon you how serious this is. Assassinations and kidnappings are certainly not beyond Voldemort."

"I know, sir," said Harry. He shivered. The idea of what Voldemort would do to him if he managed to kidnap Harry... It was worth being careful. "There was one more thing, sir." Dumbledore sat down again and looked at Harry, obviously waiting. "I know you trust him, but..."

"I've been over this before, Harry," said Dumbledore, sounding slightly impatient now. "I know you and he dislike each other a great deal..."

"Sorry, Professor," said Harry, quickly. "I wasn't talking about Sn...Professor Snape. I meant Professor Vance. How do we know he isn't Polyjuiced or under a curse?"

Dumbledore nodded, his impatience vanished, to be replaced with a rueful smile. "I see. A very reasonable question, Harry, given your experience with our previous professors. I can tell you that Professor Vance has willingly undergone a series of tests, including being isolated for long enough for Polyjuice Potion to wear off, and a thorough course of countercurses, so I am confident of his identity. Also, I have known him since he turned up here at age eleven, completely lost and out of place. He was one of the first Muggle-born Aurors the Ministry had, and I trust him implicitly."

"I know sir, it's just that...well, he's able to use the Killing Curse."

Dumbledore sighed. "I know. What I told you in the forest, though it remains a reasonable guideline, certainly isn't a hard-and-fast rule. Professor Vance has a great deal of anger and hatred towards Voldemort and his followers for some very personal reasons that aren't my place to tell. It provides him enough emotion to fuel the curse." For a moment, Dumbledore looked very old. Then he smiled tiredly and the shadow lifted from his face. "Forgive me if I seem a little abrupt, Harry," he said. "These are dark days, days that I hoped against hope I would never see again. These are perfectly sensible questions for you to be asking, so please don't imagine that I am annoyed with you in any way."

Harry nodded.

"You should get to bed now, Harry. I imagine that you have a busy day ahead of you with the Quidditch tryouts. Best of luck."

"Thank you, Professor," said Harry, getting up from his chair. It was late, and he had to stifle a yawn as he wished Dumbledore good night, put his cloak on, and left Dumbledore's office to return to Gryffindor Tower. The castle was as silent and dark as ever, but now Harry felt somehow unsafe, knowing that there was a highly-trained wizard under the Imperius Curse somewhere in the castle, and that that wizard was following him.

He made it back to Gryffindor Tower without further incident, and before taking off his cloak, Harry lit his ring and started looking around the corridor for any traces of the intruder. There were none, and satisfied, he pulled off his cloak, woke up the Fat Lady, gave her the password, and managed to convince her to open for him despite the late hour. He entered the common room to find Ron and Hermione still there, waiting up for him.

"How'd it go?" asked Ron, when he saw him.

"Dumbledore used his Pensive to go through the memory.

"At least Voldemort didn't get an Auror," said Hermione.

"An MLEP wizard would be bad enough, Hermione," said Ron. "They're not Aurors, but they're pretty tough, and a lot easier to control. Dad told me once that Aurors have to undergo testing for the Imperius Curse monthly, and that they're trained to resist it."

"Great," said Harry, feeling his temper rise. "Bloody fantastic. A fully-qualified wizard trained to fight Death Eaters is stalking me." He saw Ron and Hermione stiffen up, as though expecting an outburst, and forced his frustration down to merely simmering. "I'm going to bed." He saw Ron and Hermione relax slightly, and he felt slightly guilty. Had he really been that bad last year? "You coming, Ron? We've got an early day tomorrow."

"Be up in a few minutes," said Ron, turning back to Hermione. Harry rolled his eyes, but refrained from saying what was on his mind.

He waved good night to them, then trudged up the stairs to the Sixth Year dormitory. His temper was still feeling raw, but it had subsided a bit, leaving Harry feeling slightly drained. This was just what he needed—another thing to be constantly looking over his should for. He opened the door to the dormitory. The curtains around Neville's, Dean's, and Seamus's beds were already drawn, and he could hear the soft sound of Neville's snoring coming from the other boy's bed. He made his way over to his own bed and pulled off his robes, then flopped down on the soft mattress and drew his own curtains. After taking off his glasses and putting them on his nightstand, Harry passed his hands over his face. The stress was really getting to him. Between the prophecy, his N.E.W.T. classes, Sirius's death (there was a slight twinge in his stomach), and now the added wrinkle of being stalked by one of Voldemort's thralls, Harry decided that he wouldn't be surprised if he wound up with an ulcer by the end of the year. With that happy thought, he went through his Occlumency exercises, closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.

***

Harry was woken up by a sudden flare of bright light in his eyes and the sound of someone pulling open his bed hangings. "C'mon, mate!" came Ron's voice. Harry blearily opened his eyes. The sun was shining brightly through the windows and Ron was standing over him, already dressed in his Quidditch robes with his Comet Two-Sixty in his hands. "We've got to get down to the pitch," said Ron. "Ginny and Katie are already waiting for us."

Harry sighed, then sat up and put on his glasses. "All right, I'm up," he said, feeling slightly annoyed at Ron for his good cheer. _It's unnatural, is what it is,_ he thought. _Ron's never this cheerful in the morning_. He rolled out of bed and quickly pulled on his Quidditch robes, then opened his trunk and carefully lifted out his Firebolt. Immediately, he felt a little better as he felt its smooth handle in his hands. He glanced out the window, and it certainly was a beautiful day for flying. Maybe that explained Ron's mood. "Shall we?" he said to Ron, and they left the dormitory together.

Ginny and Katie were already both down there with their brooms and robes, waiting impatiently. As he and Ron entered the common room, Katie said, rather huffily, "It's about bloody time, you two! Come on, we need to get down to the pitch!"

Ron looked distinctly mutinous at the prospect of missing breakfast. Harry stepped on his foot none-too-gently as he opened his mouth to express his displeasure, and Ron shut it and kept his silence.

The pitch was empty, but the green grass and tall golden hoops gleaming in the bright morning sun was the most inviting sight Harry had seen in a long time. As soon as he set foot on the pitch, he mounted his broom and kicked off into the sky with a whoop. It felt _amazing _to be back in the sky at Hogwarts! He didn't have to stay low to avoid being seen by Muggles, he could go as fast as he wanted without worrying about flying headlong into a tree. He reveled in the swooping feeling in his stomach as he put the Firebolt through its paces. As Harry went through a final loop and soared through one of the goal hoops with just inches to spare, he saw that Ron, Ginny, and Katie had also taken off, and were now in the middle of the pitch, waiting for him. He flew over to join them.

"Looking good, Harry," said Katie approvingly, as he arrived. She pointed at the stands. "We've got a few hopefuls this year, and with any luck, we'll find someone better than Sloper and Kirke."

Harry looked over at the stands. There were definitely people out there, but he couldn't make out any faces. "What do we want to start with first?" he asked. Katie shrugged.

"Let's run through the Chaser trials first. Harry, you and Ginny can work as opposing Chasers, and I'll see how our potentials do with me. Ron, you'll watch the goal, we'll just be using this side of the field for now. Ready?"

Harry nodded, as did Ron and Ginny. Katie pulled a scrap of parchment out of her robes and glanced at it. "Adrian Smith! Please join us up here!" she shouted at the group of Gryffindors in the stands. A short, thin boy Harry vaguely recognized as a second year left the crowd and flew up on his broom, a Cleansweep Seven.

"Hello, Adrian," Katie said in a calming voice—Adrian was looking rather nervous. "We're just going to warm up with a few passes, then run some Chaser drills. You'll be with me, while Harry and Ginny over there will be opposing Chasers and Ron will watch the goal." She hefted the Quaffle. "Ready?"

Adrian nodded, and Katie tossed him the ball, not too hard. He caught it competently, then threw it over to Ginny, who also caught it. They tossed it around in circles a few times, then Katie took Adrian and started tossing it back and forth with him while they flew. He was pretty good, Harry noted. He had seemed a little timid at first, but quickly gained courage. "All right, everyone," said Katie, loudly. "We're going to start some Chaser drills now. Adrian, with me!" With that, she streaked towards the goal hoops, Quaffle in hand.

"Harry, you take Adrian, I'll take Katie!" shouted Ginny. Harry gave her a wave to show he'd heard, and altered his course to cover Adrian. Katie flipped the ball over to Adrian before Harry or Ginny could get to their marks, so Harry made a steal attempt, which Adrian was able to fend off fairly competently. He flew close to Adrian, his Firebolt easily keeping pace with the other boy's slower broom, and when Adrian tried to pass it back to Katie, Harry was able to get his fingers on it and pull it in. He quickly flipped it over to Ginny, who drove straight for the goal with Katie hot on her tail.

Ginny took her shot at the goal, which Ron managed to snatch out of the air and toss to Katie, who immediately threw it back to Adrian. Harry was doing his best to cover him, but he didn't have much experience as a Chaser, and Adrian was able to block another attempt to steal, and this time, he couldn't intercept the Quaffle as Adrian flipped it to Katie, who ran at the goal and managed to score.

"Nice assist, Adrian!" Katie shouted, as Ron tossed the Quaffle to Harry. Harry used his speed to his best advantage and sped off, leaving Adrian behind as he passed the Quaffle to Ginny. Then Adrian and Katie switched. Katie, with her Nimbus 2001, was able to mark Harry much better than Adrian had, and prevented him from getting open for a pass. It didn't matter, though, since Ginny managed to neatly avoid the younger boy and score on Ron.

Katie called for a halt, and Harry braked, while Adrian, Ginny, and Ron did the same thing. "Thanks, Adrian!" she shouted. "You did well!" Adrian waved and flew off towards the stands, while Katie whipped the parchment out of her pocket and called on the next person, a second year named Timothy Pierce.

By lunchtime, they had run through all the potential Chasers, and Katie signaled for a halt. Harry was relieved, as he was starving, and Ron looked as though he was ready to start gnawing on his broom. The two of them and Ginny joined Katie on the ground, where she had produced a quill from somewhere in her robes and was jotting some notes on the parchment she had been referring to before. "Let's discuss the potentials over lunch, and then do the Beater trials, okay?"

Harry and Ginny nodded, while Ron's stomach gave off a huge growl. Harry wasn't able to fight back a grin, and Ginny laughed, but Katie ignored it. Ron's ears went red and he gave a sheepish grin. "Sounds good to me," he said.

Hermione was already waiting for them at the Gryffindor table, an untouched sandwich in front of her and a book propped open against a jug of pumpkin juice. Harry was honestly amazed that the book hadn't knocked over the jug; it was the same massive book that she'd been reading the night before. Ron sat down next to her and started building himself a sandwich from the makings on the table. Harry sat down on her other side, and Ginny and Kate sat down across from the three of them.

"How did the tryouts go?" she asked, not taking her eyes off the book.

"Pretty well, I think," said Ginny. She was watching Ron pile everything he could find onto some bread. Harry wondered idly how Ron even expected he could fit it into his mouth. "I think the first one was the best, the second year."

"You mean Smith?" said Ron. "Yeah, he managed to stay on his broom. Always a strong point." A couple of the more nervous potential Chasers had actually fallen off their brooms upon being attacked by Ginny and Harry.

Katie was scribbling something onto the parchment, but after a moment, she looked up. "What about you, Harry?" she asked, her expression neutral.

Adrian had been quite good, Harry knew. He was young, so he would be able to play for the team for quite some time, and he had a lot of raw talent that Ginny and Katie would be able to shape this year and next. "Works for me," he said.

"That's that, then," said Katie. She scribbled something else on her parchment. "Okay, this afternoon should be shorter. Sloper and Kirke aren't on the tryout list, so I can only assume that they won't be coming back. We've only got four hopefuls this afternoon."

They finished lunch and headed back out towards the Quidditch pitch. Katie went towards the box where the balls were stored and kicked it. It sprang open, and she pulled out two Beater's bats. "First off!" she shouted at the people in the stands. "Seamus Finnegan!"

Harry and Ron glanced at each other. This was a surprise; Seamus had never shown any particular interest in Quidditch beyond that of a fan; Harry had certainly never seen him play. But this explained why Seamus had been conspicuously absent from their dormitory since the year had begun.

"All right, Seamus," said Katie, as Seamus came down onto the field with his broom, a serviceable-looking Cleansweep Seven. She handed him a bat, which he took, his face in a neutral expression. He didn't look at Ron or Harry. "Harry, Ginny, and I will start flying, and I'll release one of the Bludgers. You keep it from hitting us." Seamus nodded curtly.

"Begin!" shouted Katie, releasing one of the Bludgers, then streaking off into the air. Harry, Ginny, and Seamus followed suit, leaving Ron on the ground looking distinctly disgruntled.

The Bludger first streaked after Katie, but as Harry swerved close to it, it started following him instead. He tried to lose it, but it swooped in towards his left arm. Then Seamus was there, smacking it away with all his might. The Bludger rocketed off towards the stands, causing the people watching to duck in alarm, but they needn't have worried, as it curved around, this time, heading towards Ginny. Once again, Seamus was able to deflect it away from her.

This went on for a couple of minutes before Harry heard Katie shout, "All right, Ron! Release the other Bludger!" Ron did so, and now there were two flying around trying to knock Harry, Ginny, or Katie off their brooms. Harry didn't think much of this new plan, especially when he had to quickly execute a Sloth-Grip Roll as one Bludger soared at his head while Seamus was busy covering Katie.

"All right, that's enough!" said Katie after what seemed like forever to Harry, though he knew it couldn't have been more than a few minutes.

The four of them returned to the turf. Ron was busy wrestling the Bludgers back into the ball case, swearing loudly as one escaped from his grip for a moment and hit him hard in the chest. Harry was surprised to see that none of them were sporting any bruises or favoring any limbs. Seamus had done quite well. "That was really good, Seamus," he said, and the other Gryffindor smiled for the first time.

"Thanks, Harry," he said. "Fred and George were great together, so I never really considered trying out, but it's nice to finally be able to play."

"That was bloody good!" said Ron, coming up to join them. "I didn't know you were a Beater, Seamus."

"Been practicing at home," he said, now looking slightly embarrassed. "Me mam always thought I should try out for the team, but she saw Fred an' George playing once and then agreed that I should wait until they finished."

"Well, Seamus," said Katie. "You're certainly at the top of the list right now, but we do have other players to test, so I just want to see how well you aim." She pulled out her wand and with a complicated motion and a few words that Harry didn't quite catch, conjured several wooden targets very similar to ones Harry had seen in Muggle archery competitions when the Dursleys had watched them on the telly. She walked over to the case and released a Bludger, which flew straight up, then as everyone backed away, came right at Seamus. He kept his eye on it until Harry was sure that it was too late, then whipped the bat around and drove the Bludger straight into one of the targets, which splintered. The Bludger came back at him, and this time Seamus moved, running several yards towards the stands. He again waited until the iron ball was nearly on him, then drove the Bludger again. It splintered one target, burst through, and splintered two more.

"Katie, if you don't make him a Beater, I'm quitting the team," Harry muttered to her. She nodded and grinned at him.

Graham Harrison was a third-year who Harry had seen occasionally, but never knew his name. His trial was considerably poorer than Seamus; Harry wound up with a nasty bruise on his right arm and he was fairly certain that he had at least one cracked rib, while Ginny had a shiner that started Ron muttering darkly about Graham. Katie was not looking happy as she tested his aiming ability; he missed his first target and then was caught square in the face by the Bludger as it came back, knocking him unconscious. Already two impressive black eyes were blooming on his face, giving the distinct impression of a raccoon in Quidditch robes. "All right," she said, grabbing the Bludger and forcing it back into the box. "We should head up to the hospital wing for a bit and get everyone fixed up. Ron, would you mind keeping an eye on things down here?" He nodded, and turned towards the stands. "_Mobilicorpus!_" she said, pointing her wand at Graham, and she set off towards the hospital wing. Harry followed Katie and Ginny up to the hospital wing.

"Every year, I beg the Headmaster to do something to prevent Quidditch injuries, and every year more of you are in here," Madam Pomfrey said upon their entrance. One by one she quickly healed their wounds. "Please do try to keep from seriously injuring yourself this year, Mr. Potter," she added, as she mended his cracked rib and gave him a salve to rub on the bruise, which he did as she watched. It felt warm for a second and then disappeared from his arm. She gave the same thing to Ginny, which cleared up her black eye just as quickly. Graham had been knocked out hard enough that Madam Pomfrey wanted to keep him overnight, so they left him there, and hurried back down to the pitch.

"Sorry for the interruption, everyone!" shouted Katie. Her voice was sounding a little hoarse, Harry thought.

"Why don't you use that amplifying spell?" he whispered to her. "You know, the one that makes your voice a lot louder without you having to shout?"

"That's a good idea. Thanks, Harry!" she whispered back, then pointed her wand at her throat, and muttered, "_Sonorus!_" When she spoke again, her voice was much louder. "The next person is Richard Lawlor! Please come down on the pitch!" A very thin, very tall fourth year came down towards the field, broom in hand, and without another word, Ron released the Bludger and again, they took to the sky. His blocking skills were better than Graham's, but not nearly as good as Seamus's; though Harry hadn't been hit, Katie had taken a glancing blow to the shoulder that left her favoring that arm slightly. Richard's aim was decent, he missed on the first shot, but made up by lining up a shot that smashed three of Katie's conjured targets. After his trial, Katie called the team around and said, "He's pretty good. Should we try out the last person?"

Ginny nodded. "We might as well see who it is and how well they do—we might have a pair of decent Beaters this year!" Harry agreed, privately thinking that if they had managed to win the Cup last year without any decent Beaters, they could do anything this year.

"All right," said Katie. She stood up and again magically amplified her voice. "The last person is Mary Stuart!"

The final Beater hopeful came down from the stands. She was a short, timid-looking third year who happened to have a Nimbus 2000. She didn't look like much, and he heard Ron snort. "A bit short, isn't she?" he muttered. Ginny shot him a nasty look, and he didn't say anything else.

Mary climbed onto her Nimbus and took off. Harry couldn't help but be impressed; she moved expertly on the broom, with a confidence one generally didn't see in younger students. The Beater's bat was as big as her forearm, but she managed to beautifully deflect the Bludger away from everyone. Her strength and reflexes weren't as good as Seamus's, but she was graceful, had excellent aim (as proved by the smashing of four of the targets with one Bludger), and was very nimble on her broom, which meant that while she didn't have the strength that Seamus did, she could accelerate faster and cover more ground.

"Thanks, everyone," shouted Katie, waving. "We'll be posting the results on the notice-board tomorrow." The students in the stands started to clear out, and the team followed Katie into the locker room. Without preamble, she said, "Smith, Finnigan, and Stuart?"

Harry, Ron, and Ginny all nodded. "With a team like that, we could pull down the Quidditch Cup easy this year," said Ron happily.

"Don't get too confident, Ron," Katie warned, but Harry noticed that she seemed to be fighting a smile nonetheless. "I'll see you lot on Monday afternoon for practice," she added, pulling off her Quidditch robes. She shouldered her broom and set off for the broomshed, leaving the other three behind.

"Well, she's definitely a little more relaxed than Oliver was," said Harry after a moment.

Ron rolled his eyes. "That doesn't sound very hard from what you've said, mate," he commented, as the three of them pulled off their own Quidditch robes.

"Well, it's only September," said Ginny. "She's got a full year to go mad."

"Reckon we better get a start on our homework," said Ron as they walked out of the broomshed after stowing their brooms.

Ginny gave Ron a sidelong look. "Homework, Ron? Hermione must be having an influence on you."

Ron's ears went red.


	15. Chapter 15

XV.

The Trial of Dolores Umbridge

At the first practice on Monday afternoon, the Gryffindor Quidditch team seemed to be playing better than they had since Oliver Wood had last led it. Ron was saving almost every shot taken, some with spectacular grabs with the tips of his fingers, Adrian had been integrated very well into Ginny and Katie's Chaser plays, and Seamus and Mary were quite talented newcomers. Though they didn't have the eerie, almost-telepathic communication that Fred and George seemed to have had during their tenure, they had a good rapport all the same, and Katie seemed delighted at the players she had found. The team sat down to dinner that night mud-spattered and tired, but very satisfied.

Harry's good mood, however, was broken by Tuesday morning.

He woke up feeling a bit sore from the practice the day before, but still feeling quite excited about Gryffindor's prospects in the Quidditch Cup this year. Ron was in similar spirits, and the two of them exchanged good-natured banter as they got ready for classes. They met Hermione downstairs in the common room, where she noted their moods with some asperity ("Really! All it takes is a good Quidditch practice and you two are giggling like a couple of second-years!") then went down to the Great Hall for breakfast. Ginny was there already, so the three of them went to sit by her.

"Morning," she said, looking up from her eggs and sausage. "Good practice yesterday, eh?"

"Definitely!" said Ron, his enthusiasm almost alarming, given his usual morning attitude. "After Sloper and Kirke last year, Seamus and the other one, what's-her-name...?"

"Mary," Harry supplied.

"Right, Mary," Ron continued. "It's amazing. With them on our team, we could be a shoe-in for the Cup this year!"

"Let's not count our dragons before they've hatched," cautioned Ginny, though she looked as though she thought the same as Ron. "We never know who the other captains have found to replace their graduation losses." Ron just shrugged.

"I had no idea that Seamus or Mary were Beaters like that," said Harry, and it was true. Seamus, though not quite as audacious as the twins, had flown very well and had excellent timing and strength, while Mary complemented him well with her aim and impressive agility on her Nimbus 2000.

"I reckon we'll find out at the first match," said Ron. "That's in November, right?"

"Yep," said Ginny. "We'll be playing against Hufflepuff. Katie doesn't want us to get too overconfident, though. Remember what happened your third year?"

Harry couldn't help but wince at that. He'd fainted from the combined effects of all the dementors that the Ministry had sent to guard the school against Sirius, fallen fifty feet and was barely saved by Dumbledore's direct intervention, while his Nimbus had gone off and crashed into the Whomping Willow with entirely predictable results. The Hufflepuff Seeker, Cedric Diggory had grabbed the Snitch and won the match. "Good point, Ginny," he said. "We definitely shouldn't take Hufflepuff for granted. They have a pretty strong—" The conversation was interrupted by the arrival of the mail.

In the storm of brown and grey, Harry caught a glimpse of Hedwig's bright white feathers, and she landed gently on his outstretched arm. He gave her a crust of toast, and stroked her feathers while she swallowed it down, then gave his finger an affectionate nip and took off again. He had returned to his breakfast when a great horned owl landed in front of him with a letter in its beak. It hooted, and though it was muffled by the paper, Harry thought it sounded distinctly pompous. He took the envelope and turned it over to open it up, and suddenly, he didn't feel so hungry any more. The envelope had been sealed with the distinctive seal of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. While Harry contemplated the wax seal, the owl took off.

Hermione was the first to notice what he'd gotten. "Harry!" she said, rather loudly. Then, as people turned around to look, she lowered her voice. "Is that from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement?"

"Yeah," said Harry, still holding the envelope. After a moment, he dug his fingers under the seal and tore it open. Ginny, Hermione, and Ron all leaned in to see. "It's about Umbridge's trial," he said, then sighed. He knew it was coming, Dumbledore had warned him, but that didn't make him any more happy to have to leave the relative safety of Hogwarts for the Ministry of Magic where Voldemort was sure to have supporters. He unfolded the letter all the way.

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_The Wizengamot hereby summons you to give testimony on the actions of Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic Dolores Jane Umbridge against you on August 3rd, 1996. You are to appear to give your testimony on Friday, September 13, 1996 at the hour of eleven o'clock. Failure to do so will result in charges of contempt of court and a penalty of not more than three months imprisonment and/or a fine of 250 Galleons._

_Issued under the authority of the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement September 10, 1996. _(Signed) _The Hon. Amelia H. Bones_

After reading it, he handed it to Hermione, who quickly scanned it. "It's pretty standard language for a Wizengamot subpoena," she said at length. "The whole contempt of court bit is just to ensure that you actually show up."

Harry wasn't listening. He had caught Dumbledore's eye and held up the envelope with the seal. Dumbledore was looking serious but not grim, and nodded slightly. He met Harry's gaze for a moment, then Harry distinctly heard Dumbledore in his head, saying, _We will speak tomorrow night._ He gave Dumbledore a slight nod, then turned back to the other three. "Dumbledore and I already talked about it," he said in a low voice. "I guess Professor Vance, and Kingsley and Tonks are going to take me, and he's going to be presiding over the trial."

"Well, you should be pretty safe in the Ministry," said Ron reassuringly. "What with Dumbledore there and all."

"It's the to-and-from that worry me," Harry said quietly, and saw agreement in the other three faces.

"You'll be with three Aurors," Hermione reminded him, obviously trying to raise his spirits.

"I know, and Professor Vance and Kingsley are two of the best. But I still have a bad feeling about this."

"Maybe you shouldn't go then," suggested Ron tentatively. "I mean, I'm sure there's a way you can get out of this. I'll ask Dad, he works in the Department, he might know..."

"There isn't," said Harry. "Besides, if I don't testify, Umbridge might walk, and she'd be more dangerous that way. She's definitely under the curse; at least if she's in Azkaban, she'll have a chance to throw it off."

"Who cares if the bloody old bat is under the Imperius Curse?" said Ron. "If she's in Azkaban, she can't do anything about it."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "If she somehow escapes, she'd be more trouble. If she's not under it, then she'll just stay in there."

"Not bloody likely," said Harry. "If she hated me before, this'll really make her an enemy. Either way, she goes to Azkaban, but if she's under the curse, she may be able to help the Death Eaters somehow from inside the prison."

The bell rang for first classes, and they bade good-bye to Ginny, then went to Transfiguration, where in between continuing their introduction to Conjuring and practicing the most ridiculously complicated wand movements that Harry had ever seen, the three of them discussed what could happen at the trial. Ron seemed apathetic to whether or not Umbridge was under the Curse and was more concerned with whether or not she would wind up in Azkaban, an attitude Harry could certainly sympathize with, given that he still had the scars of her quill on the back of his hand to remind him of her tenure at Hogwarts. Hermione thought that it was of utmost importance that Harry inform the Wizengamot of everything, and let it be known through a constant stream of whispers whenever McGonagall's attention was elsewhere. "I know I have to tell them about the Imperius Curse, Hermione, I'm not going to keep it to myself," he finally said exasperatedly as they left the classroom

That night, Harry went up to Dumbledore's office, which once again opened at "Blood Pops", and knocked. "Come in," came Dumbledore's voice, and he smiled as Harry opened the door, though Harry thought that it seemed slightly diminished.

"Excellent. We need to discuss the arrangements for your travel to the Ministry. I, unfortunately, will be able to accompany you, as the trial starts promptly at nine o'clock, and I must be there to make sure that a quorum of the Wizengamot is present. As I mentioned before, Professor Vance will escort you, and you will be met by Kingsley and Nymphadora at the gates to Hogwarts. From there, you will use the Knight Bus to get to the Ministry."

"Why don't we just use the Floo?" asked Harry, confused. He was barely out of the castle yet, and already it was a rather complicated plan.

"Because first of all, that would require opening a connection into the castle from a very public area, something I am very loath to do. Also, the Floo Network is regulated at the Ministry, and it's quite possible, even probable, I daresay, that Voldemort has his informers keeping very close watch on it. The Order hasn't used it except when I personally make the connection, something which is technically illegal, but on the other hand, prevents Voldemort from monitoring our movements. On the other hand, the Knight Bus is fairly anonymous, unpredictable in its movements, and you may find there is a little more to Stan Shunpike than meets the eye."

At that pronouncement, Harry couldn't help but raise his eyebrows, and Dumbledore must have noticed, for he gave a slight chuckle.

"Not all that much more, admittedly," Dumbledore said. "But he was a good lad when he was at Hogwarts, and I've personally made it clear that the Order and I value his discretion. Not in so many words of course, but I believe that for now, he will be reliable. The Knight Bus will drop you off at one of the several entrances around the city, where you will put on your Invisibility Cloak and then enter the Ministry. Your intrepid escorts—" Harry grinned at hearing this "—will take you down to Courtroom Ten in the basement.

"Please try to be as subtle as possible when you remove your cloak; most people don't know about it, and it is a very rare, very useful tool which you have at your discretion, which I'm sure you have never used to break any school rules." The twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes seemed to become brighter for a moment, and Harry grinned again. "When we call you, simply come up to the witness stand and provide your evidence. Madam Bones will question you, as probably will several other members of the Wizengamot. Remember, Harry, _you _are not on trial here," he added emphatically. "Dolores Umbridge is. Mafalda Hopkirk has already cleared you of any wrongdoing. Any hostile questioning would be strictly against procedure unless I declare you a hostile witness. Some of Cornelius's supporters on the Wizengamot may attempt to shift blame onto you, but please do not get defensive.

"Once your testimony is over, I will call for a brief recess. Darius, Tonks, and Kingsley will escort you out and Apparate to the Shrieking Shack. I have no doubt that you know of the passage from the Shrieking Shack into the school, which is how you will be returning."

Harry nodded.

"Do you have any questions about the testimony?" Dumbledore asked, steepling his fingers.

"What do we do if something happens?" Harry asked.

"With three Aurors with you, I believe that is unlikely. However, if Voldemort does attempt an attack, Darius, Kingsley, and Nymphadora are under strict orders to evacuate you to Hogwarts immediately. I will not lie to you, Harry," Dumbledore continued more gently. "This is not without an element of risk. Though we've kept your arrival time a strict secret—only Madam Bones, myself, and your escorts know it—Voldemort will be bound to learn of your arrival once your testimony is completed. He may have secret Death Eaters in the Ministry placed well enough to be in the same room, but I believe that he will not act so overtly. To do so would only undermine him in the long run, as it would likely reveal several of his spies. Then again, I have missed my guess before."

Harry felt a chill up his spine, and shuddered slightly. Dumbledore gave him a searching look. "Are you quite all right, Harry?"

"I'm fine, Professor," he said, not wanting to admit his fear to Dumbledore, the constant suspicion that something would go wrong. "I just have a bad feeling about Friday," he admitted after a moment.

Dumbledore leaned forward. "I can certainly understand that. Pay attention to your instincts, Harry, and if something strikes you as wrong on Friday, let one of your escorts know immediately." Harry nodded again, feeling resigned to his fate. He had to testify against Umbridge; that was a given, and Dumbledore's plan seemed solid. "Now, let us do a bit more Occlumency before you go."

For the rest of the week as Friday drew closer, Harry felt more and more anxious about going to the Ministry. He knew that Dumbledore had planned everything out very carefully, but he, Harry, had had far too much experience of what happened when Dumbledore's plan went awry. His ill-temper of last year started to make a return, but he managed to keep it toned down, instead using Quidditch practice as a way to let off some steam. Potions, oddly enough, remained less stressful than it had been in a long time; though Snape was the major reason why he'd hated the class, it suddenly seemed easier when he no longer had to deal with Malfoy attempting to sabotage his potions, or worry about forgetting a particular ingredient or how many times to stir. Snape, still trying to catch Harry unawares and unable to criticize his potion-making, had taken to questioning Harry on details from his homework and the class notes, which oddly enough, forced Harry to actually understand to some extent the theory of potions.

On Friday, Harry woke up from a restless sleep, one punctuated by many awakenings and fitful dozes. He recognized the hollow, disconnected feeling of sleep deprivation, and his only desire was to get downstairs to the Great Hall to get some tea or coffee or something in his body to wake him up before the trial.

"You look awful, Harry," said Ginny as he joined her at the table. Ron had waited for Hermione to come down, and had told Harry to go on ahead.

"Couldn't sleep last night," he said as he poured himself some tea and grabbed a slice of toast. "Too worried." He leaned closer to Ginny. "I have a bad feeling about this, Ginny. I feel like I'm walking into a trap. I told you guys about what Malfoy said to Umbridge in Diagon Alley, right?"

"About getting you out of the castle?" she said grimly. "Yes, I remember. Do you think this might be part of their plan?"

"I don't know," said Harry, sighing. "I don't think Lucius Malfoy planned for her to be exposed, but it seems awfully sketchy..."

Ron and Hermione came through the door just then and sat down with Harry and Ginny. "All right, mate?" Ron asked, as he took in the dark circles below Harry's eyes.

"I'm fine, Ron. Didn't sleep much, that's all. You know how it is. Worried about the trial today. I have a bad feeling about it."

Like it had when he was dreading the Triwizard Tasks, Harry found that the morning had a very irritating habit of going by very quickly. One moment he was in Defense Against the Dark Arts, listening to Professor Vance introducing the class to basic dueling hexes, the next moment, he was in Care of Magical Creatures beginning a unit studying phoenixes (Hagrid mentioned that he was trying to convince Fawkes to come down for a demonstration), and then he was meeting Professor Vance in the entrance hall to wait for Tonks and Kingsley to arrive.

They weren't long, and the three Aurors all seemed to confer silently for a moment before Tonks turned to Harry.

"Wotcher, Harry!" she said cheerfully, but her voice sounded slightly strained. "Did Dumbledore tell you about the arrangements?"

"Yeah," said Harry.

"In that case," said Kingsley, "we should get going." He checked a pocket watch that was apparently stowed in his robe. "We've got half an hour to get to the Ministry, and it'll take us ten to get through the building." Though he sounded hurried, there was something about his calm, smooth drawl that soothed Harry's nerves slightly and he nodded.

The three Aurors and Harry left the school and started down the path to the front gates. Professor Vance was walking slightly ahead of them, glancing around in a way that was rapidly becoming familiar to Harry. They didn't have their wands raised, but they were out and by their sides, and Harry surreptitiously slid his wand out of his robes as well. If he wanted to be honest with himself, he hated the idea of having to be escorted _anywhere_, but he wasn't stupid. If the Ministry was half as corrupt and compromised as he suspected it was or as Dumbledore seemed to suspect it was, then going alone and openly might have been signing his own death warrant.

Predictably, nothing happened on the brief walk from the front door of the school to the gates. They passed between the winged boars on either side of the gates, and Harry wasn't sure, but he thought he felt a slight coldness as they left the borders of the school. Was that the edge of the wards, or was it just his imagination? Professor Vance stuck out his wand as they reached the road, and though Harry knew what was coming, he still couldn't help but jump as the Knight Bus sprang out of thin air in all of its triple-decker, violently purple glory with an earsplitting BANG. Professor Vance was the first person to get on the bus, and Stan Shunpike, still covered in pimples, walked up to him immediately.

"'Ello, Professor," he said in the thick Cockney accent that Harry remembered so well from his third year. "We already talked wit' Dumbledore, an' ain't no one in 'ere but us and ole Madam Marsh. Don'choo worry, we'll get you to the Ministry on time. You're the first 'uns what'll be dropped off. 'Ello, Neville!" he added, waving at Harry, tapping his nose and looking very sly.

That got a curious look from Tonks as well as Professor Vance, and Harry muttered, "Tell you later." They took seats in some of the armchairs that filled the bus during the day time.

The ride was very fast; one moment, they were rushing through Hogsmeade and wizards and witches (who could see the bus) were involuntarily being thrown out of its path. Some seemed remarkably blasé about the whole thing, others stood up yelling and shaking their fist at the bus. Then, with another BANG, they were traveling through the streets of London.

Harry was quite frankly amazed that none of the Muggles noticed being magically shifted twelve feet to the left or the right while the bus avoided them, especially considering how many of them there were and how everything else needed to be moved as well. He tried to consider how it could work, then gave it up as a bad job after a short while as an entire railway bridge lifted ten feet to avoid catching the top of the Knight Bus. It made several sharp turns, and Harry would have sworn that the bus would have careened into the buildings, but they seemed to jump out of the way as well.

With twelve minutes to spare until Harry had to give his testimony, the Knight Bus slammed to a halt in the middle of a side alley, and Harry saw a familiar-looking telephone box. He started towards it.

Professor Vance grabbed his arm and pulled him back. "Not so fast, Potter," he said quietly. "You don't know if the thing's been jinxed or not." He took out his wand and pointed it at the ground around the phone box, then muttered a spell Harry didn't catch and moved his wand in a circle. To Harry's surprise, a pale silver circle appeared on the ground around the phone booth. He had never seen anything like this before, and made a mental note to talk to Hermione about it. Professor Vance pointed his wand at the booth and murmured something else. Harry wasn't sure what he was looking for, or even what the incantation had done, but the professor walked a slow circle around the booth and kept his wand pointed at it the entire time. "All right, it's clear," he said after finishing. "Let's get down there." He waved his wand and the circle disappeared.

Harry got into the booth, followed by Kingsley and Tonks, and when Professor Vance climbed in, it wound up being rather crowded. Tonks took the phone off the hook and quickly dialed 6-2-4-4-2, and the cool feminine voice said, "Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business."

"Darius Vance, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Nymphadora Tonks, all of the Auror Office, here to escort Harry Potter to be a witness at the trial of Dolores Umbridge," said Professor Vance.

"Thank you," said the voice. "Visitor, please take the badge and attach it to the front of your robes."

Harry took the badge, which said, _Harry Potter, Witness for the Prosecution_. He smirked at it, then remembered what it had said the last time he was here and felt the smile melt away. The phone booth, not noticing his mood swing, gave him the same old line about being required to submit to a search and present his wand for registration. "The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant day," said the female voice, which was joined by Tonks doing a singsong impersonation of it, which made Harry chuckle a bit.

"Come on, Potter," said Professor Vance. "You've got to put on your bloody Cloak, or we're going to be held up worse passing through security."

Harry pulled his Invisibility Cloak out of his pocket and swept it over himself just as the doors opened into the Atrium. It was later in the day, so there wasn't the stream of wizards and witches emerging from the rows of fireplaces like there had been at his hearing last summer. They walked towards the security desk, Harry making sure that the cloak didn't slip off him—it was getting difficult to cover himself properly with it. The Auror at the security desk didn't do much more than nod at his three fellow Aurors as they walked past, Harry creeping silently between them. They made it to the lift and got inside. Tonks pushed the button for the lowest floor, the Department of Mysteries. Harry shuddered involuntarily. _Too many memories_.

The door opened and another cool female voice said, "Level Nine: Department of Mysteries." Harry made to step out, but Professor Vance stopped him and instead poked his own head out of the lift, followed by his wand.

"All clear, Potter," he whispered, and they made their way down to Courtroom Ten. In a dark corner, Harry swept off his Invisibility Cloak and carefully stowed it in an inside pocket in his robes. The door was open, and they could hear voices.

"You've got five minutes, Harry," whispered Tonks.

"Thanks," he whispered back, and climbed up to the top of the observation gallery to take a seat in the back row. Down in the center of the courtroom, he saw Dumbledore make eye contact with him briefly, give the slightest of nods, then turn back to the witness currently testifying. The headmaster looked very impressive, wearing the plum-colored Wizengamot robes. However, the W on his robes was not silver, but bright gold. Umbridge was in the middle of the room, looking utterly furious, in the magical chair. Harry couldn't help but notice that she was held in place by the enchanted chains. She looked somehow diminished, dressed in baggy prisoner's robes.

"Thank you, Miss Kilreagh," said Dumbledore after a short while. "That will be all. Ladies and gentlemen of the Wizengamot," he continued, turning around from his place at the front of the assembly to face them, "I now call on the target of Dolores Umbridge's unexpected attack to stand witness before the Wizengamot. Harry Potter, if you would please join us down here?"

"Good luck!" whispered Tonks, shifting her nose into a pig snout and back, making Harry give her a slight smile. He pushed his way down the stairs in the gallery, but it took him a minute before he was able to walk onto the floor of the courtroom.

He steeled himself as he walked onto the floor. Dumbledore raised his wand and conjured him a chair—not one of his famous chintz overstuffed armchairs, but a serviceable wooden chair. Harry understood immediately. He sat down.

"Now then, Harry, Madam Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, will be asking the questions, serving in her role as interrogator."

Madam Bones rose. "Mr. Potter, what were you doing in Diagon Alley on the 4th of August, this year?"

"I was there buying school supplies for my return to Hogwarts," said Harry. He had the feeling that if he kept to the facts and made sure his answers were polite, it would be over sooner. Just as long as he could get out of the damn Ministry without being attacked...

"And can you describe what happened that day, to the best of your recollection?"

Harry took a deep breath, steadied himself, and began. "We arrived in Diagon Alley in Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, owned by Fred and George Weasley. We were met there by Tonks...er, that is, Auror Nymphadora Tonks," he amended, "as well as Remus Lupin, a personal friend. They were going to supervise us while we were shopping for our school supplies."

"And why did you feel that you needed the supervision of an Auror and a former Defense Against the Dark Arts professor?" Madam Bones asked, her monocle glinting in the light.

"Er...well, given that I'd been attacked last summer by dementors, I guess they wanted to keep me and my friends safe," he said. To be honest, Harry really hadn't given it much thought.

"And when did you first encounter Undersecretary Umbridge?"

"We first encountered her in Flourish and Blott's," he said, and immediately, he could tell from the way her eyebrows rose and a muttering swept through the observers that they had not been aware of this. "I was searching for textbooks for my classes when I caught sight of her with her wand out. Rather than confront her and risk breaking the law, I...er... avoided her and made sure to stay out of her way."

"How do you know that she was looking for you?" Madam Bones asked.

Harry thought a moment. "Well, she had her wand out, didn't she? And she must have seen me because I saw her walk down the aisle I had just left, looking for me. I tried to remain covered behind some books, and she must not have seen me because she left the store after that." Harry desperately hoped he'd be able to keep this all straight; since no one could know about his Invisibility Cloak, he'd had to make up a plausible-sounding cover story on the spot. Unfortunately, it didn't sound as plausible once he went over it in his head, and he noticed Madam Bones seemed to be frowning.

"I have a question," came a voice from the assembled Wizengamot, and Professor Dumbledore stood up.

"The Chief Warlock recognizes the Honorable Tiberius Ogden," he said.

"Mr. Potter," began the wizard, and Harry could tell that this man was very old. "I believe that you said you were shopping with your friends. Did Undersecretary Umbridge accost them in any way?"

"Er..." said Harry, taken aback. He didn't think she had; Ron and Hermione had been quite surprised to hear that she was out and about. "No, sir, I don't think so," he said after a moment.

"Thank you, Mr. Potter," said the old wizard, and sat down.

"Continue with your story, Mr. Potter," said Madam Bones. Her face was unreadable.

"Well, after I saw her leave," said Harry, "I was curious why she seemed to be looking for me, so I slipped out of the shop and managed to remain unseen while I followed her. She headed for the entrance of Knockturn Alley, and I saw her meet someone there."

"And who did she meet there?"

"The Death Eater Lucius Malfoy," Harry said.

Immediately, there was a mass upwelling of noise from the gallery. Harry couldn't catch any of the words, but he caught the general feeling that everyone had been caught by surprise by this revelation. It took several loud bangs from the end of Dumbledore's wand before Madam Bones could continue.

"You say you saw Dolores Umbridge meeting with a known Death Eater? One who should currently be in Azkaban prison?"

'Yes, ma'am," said Harry. "I watched her talk to Malfoy. At first she told Malfoy that she'd seen me and my friends enter the bookstore. Then a change came over her—she seemed to recognize Malfoy, and shouted, 'You're a Death Eater!' at him, before he cast the Imperius Curse on her and told her to follow me, and if possible, capture me, or otherwise arrange for me to be sent out of the school at some point during the year."

"You are suggesting that Dolores Umbridge was placed under the Imperius Curse by Lucius Malfoy?" Madam Bones asked, and Harry could hear the disbelief in her tone.

"Yes," said Harry. "I think she was under it while she was looking for me in the bookstore, then started to fight it, then was placed under it again."

"Mr. Potter," came a familiar voice from the assembled Wizengamot.

"The Chief Warlock recognizes Percy Weasley, acting as the alternate for the Right Honorable Cornelius Fudge." said Dumbledore. Harry felt a nasty shock go through him. Was Percy really so close to the Minister that he was acting as his representative in the Wizengamot? Harry quickly recollected himself as he heard Percy start to ask a question.

"Mr. Potter," said Percy in a pompous voice that would have made Ron's ears go red and the twins start looking for new ways to vandalize his property, "Are you seriously suggesting that one of the Ministry's highest witches was under the Imperius Curse and no one has noticed?" The irony in his voice was so thick Harry could have cut it with a knife, and he choked back his first response to the question.

"Yes, Percy, I am," he said, fighting to keep his voice calm. Apparently it wasn't enough for he and Dumbledore to have been vindicated; Percy was still toeing the government line.

"I find this very difficult to believe," Percy said. "It seems to me that we are being forced to accept some highly unlikely things," he continued, his voice pitched so that it was clear he was addressing everyone. "Namely, that a very senior ranking member of the Ministry was under the Imperius Curse, and that that witch at the same time attacked, unprovoked, an underage wizard. Though we know that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is active again, can he really have acted in such a short amount of time to infiltrate the Ministry so deeply? And why would he waste that deep penetration to attack a student in broad daylight?" Harry heard several voices on the assembled Wizengamot mutter what sounded like agreement.

"Voldemort has been back over a year," Harry said with some heat. He desperately tried to rein in his temper. The loud series of gasps and sharp intakes of breath that had gone through the room when he mentioned Voldemort's name didn't help. "I think that's more than enough time to penetrate the Ministry, and as for why he wanted to attack me, could it be because he's been trying to kill me since I was a year old?" Harry immediately regretted the sarcasm, but refused to let it show, instead keeping as firm a face as he could.

"Though Mr. Weasley brings up some good points," interrupted Madam Bones, "this material should perhaps be reserved for the Wizengamot's deliberation. Mr. Potter, if you would continue with your recollection, please?"

"Right," said Harry, a little off balance from the exchange with Percy. "Er...well, after I saw Malfoy put the curse on Umbridge, I went and informed one of the people I came with, Remus Lupin. My friends and I then went to lunch at Fortescue's, where we had another confrontation."

"And who were these friends?" asked Madam Bones.

"Ron and Ginny Weasley, and Hermione Granger. Ron and Hermione are sixth-years, and Ginny is a fifth-year. We sat down to lunch, and my friend Ron pushed me under the table because he saw Umbridge. She came over to the table, but hadn't seen me, and confronted my friends, going so far as to threaten Arthur Weasley's position at the Ministry if they didn't tell her where I was. She started to take out her wand, but then Lupin came over and er... sent her on her way."

"What about the last confrontation, when she allegedly attacked you?"

Harry took a deep breath and quickly ran over the details in his head. "Ron and I had just come out of the Magical Menagerie when I heard her laugh behind me. She cast the first spell, a Stunning Spell, at my back, which missed. I pulled Ron down and faced her. She cast another Stunner at me, which I defended against using a Shield Charm. She cast more Stunners, which I continued to deflect using Shield Charms. One of her Stunners hit another man and knocked him out. I decided, finally, that she would hurt someone else and I cast a Battering Curse, which wasn't stopped by her Shield Charm, and knocked her down. She got up, and Disapparated. She reappeared a moment later behind me and was about to Stun me when Auror Tonks Stunned her and then used the Binding Hex to disable her."

"You were able to cast a Battering Curse strong enough to penetrate a Ministry official's Shield Charm?" came a surprised voice from somewhere in the Wizengamot. "Impressive."

"Is there anything else you have to say, Mr. Potter?" asked Madam Bones, her face still unreadable. Harry wasn't at all sure if she believed his testimony, especially the part about the Imperius Curse.

"No, ma'am," he said.

"Then you are free to go. Thank you for your testimony, Mr. Potter."

Harry nodded and stood up. Dumbledore Vanished the conjured chair, and gave Harry a brief smile before assuming his neutral expression. As he walked past Umbridge's chair, he met her eyes for a moment. To his surprise, there was no hint of vagueness or cloudiness, just a hate and contempt so strong that he involuntarily took a step backwards. She didn't say anything, which made Harry wonder if she was under a Silencing Charm. He headed back up to where his escorts were and made to sit down, but Professor Vance grabbed his arm.

"Come on, Potter," he said. "We need to get you out of here now before anyone else reports that you're here. If we move quick, we can get out of the Ministry before something bad happens and—" He was cut off by the outbreak of screams from the courtroom floor. Harry whirled around—a man in a black robe was standing up, pointing a wand at Umbridge. It seemed to happen in slow motion. Harry heard the words, saw the brilliant flash of green, punctuated by a deafening rush, and Dolores Umbridge slumped in her chair, her beady eyes now lifeless.

Immediately, the man was cut down by flashes of red from the Aurors in the room; Professor Vance, Tonks, and Kingsley all had their wands up already—a detached part of Harry's mind marveled at their speed—and he felt his hair wave as one of their curses came perilously close.

"Get down, Potter!" shouted Kingsley, and jerked Harry down behind a row of chairs. He peered out through the space between the chairs at the chaos on the courtroom floor below.

Dumbledore was on his feet, a hazy-looking hemisphere surrounding the Wizengamot, all of whom had expressions of varying degrees of surprise on their face. His face was no longer neutral, it was set in an expression of cold rage Harry had only seen once before, when the false Moody had been unmasked after the Triwizard Tournament. Even at this distance, it was intimidating.

"Silence!" Dumbledore roared, and his voice reverberated through the room. In moments, the room was quiet, though there was still a mass of people moving towards the doors.

"Who's senior here?" whispered Professor Vance to Kingsley.

"You are, Darius," he said. "I'm next most, then Cavanaugh."

"All right. You two get Potter back to the school." said Professor Vance. He pointed his wand at his throat, and amplified his voice. "Everyone, pay attention! As senior Auror present, I am taking command of the scene! Please return to your seats and remain calm. We'll sort this all out momentarily. _Quietus._" He pointed to two young-looking Aurors standing nearby. "Underwood, Kendrick, cover the door after Potter leaves. No one goes in or out without my permission."

"Wait," said Harry. "I want to help."

Professor Vance glanced at Harry, looking oddly sympathetic. "Not much for you to be helping with, Potter," he said. "You'd better leave before word gets out of the courtroom that you're here."

Harry was about to protest, but something on the face of the professor made him decide against it. Instead, he walked down the stairs with Kingsley and Tonks. All three had their wands out. Harry had his down by his side so it wasn't immediately obvious he was armed, while Kingsley and Tonks both had theirs raised and slowly covering the crowd. The Aurors at the door nodded at Tonks and Kingsley as they opened the door.

Out in the hallway, it was silent. There was no sound in the stone corridor at all, it was almost as though a Silencing Charm had been laid over it, and for a moment, Harry was quite convinced that one had. Then he jumped as Tonks whispered in his ear, "Put on your cloak, Harry. If they could get a Death Eater into the courtroom, then they could have more of them in the Ministry." Harry obeyed, pulling the cloak over himself. He followed Kingsley and Tonks closely as they walked briskly towards the lift, wands still out and raised. When the lift doors opened, the two Aurors didn't immediately get in, but instead stood on either side and quickly swept the inside with their wands.

"It's clear," said Kingsley. "Get in."

Harry got in the lift, then whispered, "I'm in," and Kingsley and Tonks both entered as well.

"All right, Potter," said Kingsley. The doors had closed, but he hadn't pressed any buttons yet. "Change of plan. I don't fancy getting trapped in this lift, so we're going to stop at the next level and take the stairs. It's a long way up, but better than being caught with our trousers 'round our ankles." He pressed the button for the Department of Magical Games and Sports, one level up. The lift went up quickly, and the doors slid open, but before the voice could announce their arrival, Tonks Silenced the lift. Again, she and Kingsley first poked their wands out, then their heads.

"Oi, there!" came a voice from the corridor, sounding rather uncertain. "What's with the wands?"

"There's been an incident in Courtroom Ten during a hearing," said Kingsley blithely. Harry thought this quite an understatement. "We're supposed to cover the stairwells."

"Right," said the voice, and as Harry came out, he saw it belonged to a middle-aged, rather frumpy-looking witch, who appeared to be quite taken aback at being confronted by the wands of two very serious-looking Aurors. "Well, I'll just stay out of your way, shall I? That sounds like a good idea..." Her voice trailed off as she walked away, and Tonks shook her head.

"The stairwell should be down that corridor," she said. "Come on, gentlemen. We've got to hurry."

They rushed down the corridor, not seeing anyone. "The stairs will slow us down some," said Kingsley as they ran. "If there's a Death Eater in there, he might be able to get a message off, but hopefully, they'll be counting on us taking the lift." The door to the stairs was a heavy-looking affair, and Harry was sure that the iron hinges would not be silent when Kingsley pushed it open, but to his surprise, it slid open without protest, revealing the stairwell. It was dark, and Kingsley frowned.

"I don't like this," said Tonks, her brows knit in worry. "The lights are always supposed to be on in the stairwell."

"Not much for it now," said Kingsley. "We'd best hurry. _Lumos!_"

Tonks lit her wand. Harry was itching to throw off his cloak; he felt like he couldn't run properly and the idea of standing idly by while Tonks and Kingsley possibly came under fire was almost more than he could stand.

They started up the stairs, which was a winding spiral staircase in one direction. Their footsteps echoed eerily in the dark. Every now and then, they would come to a landing which Harry assumed to be the entrance to another level of the Ministry, but it seemed like he'd been climbing stairs for at least an hour before they finally came to the door to the Atrium.

"All right," said Kingsley. "Potter, you still covered?"

"Yeah," said Harry. "Look, we're almost out of here, can I at least take off my cloak?"

"No can do," said Tonks. "If anyone sees you, the jig's up. Just a little longer, and then we can Apparate out of here. The Apparition Chamber is the only place in the Ministry where it isn't blocked by some sort of ward. Ready, Kingsley?"

Harry saw Kingsley nod in the light from his wand. The Auror took a deep breath, then gently pushed the door open a crack and peered out. "Looks clear," he muttered, and pushed the door the rest of the way open. "All clear," he said.

Kingsley stepped out first, then Tonks, and finally Harry. The Atrium was mostly clear, though Eric at the Security desk was looking at them with ill-disguised curiosity. Kingsley heaved a sigh of relief. "Looks like we managed to avoid any unpleasantness. Let's get to the Apparition Chamber."

The Apparition Chamber was an empty room, completely unremarkable except for the sign which said,

_APPARITION CHAMBER_

_WARNING: ANY ATTEMPT TO APPARATE OUTSIDE THIS ROOM WILL BE UNSUCCESSFULL AND MAY RESULT IN RANDOMIZED ANATOMIC DISPLACEMENT, COMMONLY KNOWN AS "SPLINCHING." THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC ACCEPTS NO RESPONSIBILITY FOR THOSE WHO DISREGARD THIS WARNING._

"They certainly give you fair warning," Harry muttered, and Tonks chuckled.

"They do, but it doesn't stop some idiots from trying anyway. I heard the last person who tried to Apparate through the Ministry's Anti-Apparition wards was some drunk git who left his bollocks in Luton." She chuckled, while both Harry and Kingsley winced violently. "Ready, Harry?" He nodded, and she took hold of his robes. "Here we go!" Harry felt as though he was spinning, then everything went black for a moment, and it felt as though there were steel bands constricting his chest, and then with a bizarre sensation which he vaguely thought toothpaste must feel like being squeezed out of a tube, he reappeared with Tonks and Kingsley in a dark, dusty room which he recognized as one of the rooms in the Shrieking Shack.

"All right, Potter," said Kingsley. "We've got to get back and deal with the mess at the Ministry. Good luck."

"See you later, Harry!" said Tonks. She winked at him, and then the two of them Disapparated with a loud CRACK.


	16. Chapter 16

XVI.

Repercussions

The assassination of Dolores Umbridge in the heart of the Ministry of Magic under the collective nose of both the Wizengamot and the Auror Office was headline news for several weeks after the incident, starting with a full page headline in the _Daily Prophet_ the day after the incident:

HIGH MINISTRY OFFICIAL ASSASSINATED BY DEATH EATER AT TRIAL FOR ASSAULT AGAINST BOY-WHO-LIVED

To Harry's disgust (though he wasn't particularly surprised), the _Prophet _had obviously managed to get a photographer inside the courtroom, as there was, along with the headline, a full-color picture of the assassination as well, showing the man jumping up and killing Umbridge. Over and over, there was a green flash of light, and over and over, Umbridge slumped in her chair, dead.

"That's _disgusting_," said Hermione, aghast as she saw the front page. Harry handed it to her without a word. She opened it and quickly skimmed the article. "It looks like it's an accurate account, though," she said as she turned the page. "At least based on what you told Ron and I." She handed it back to Harry, who opened it while trying to avoid seeing the front page.

He glanced at the article. It was correct in most of the major details, though no one seemed to be exactly sure as to where he'd been. The reporter had simply mentioned that "the Boy -Who-Lived had apparently already left the scene before the murder occurred, but no one present was willing or able to corroborate that." Harry looked up at the High Table. Dumbledore was there, though he seemed somewhat subdued, as was Professor Vance, who had dark circles under his eyes and appeared to be drifting in and out of a doze, as his head kept dipping perilously close to his porridge. He continued to skim the article, picking up what had happened while he'd been leaving.

_Darius Vance, a twenty-year veteran of the Auror Office, currently on leave teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts, immediately took command of the scene and sealed the courtroom. When questioned as to his presence at the trial instead of at the school, he responded, 'None of your bloody business. Now get out of my way, I've got a crime scene to secure.' The perpetrator, who was quickly Stunned by numerous Aurors in the room immediately following his crime, remains in St. Mungo's, and the hospital has declined to comment, though his room is guarded by two Aurors who have also refused to comment on the situation. Whilst the Ministry has only released his name, Thaddeus Wallace, the Prophet has found that he is currently employed in the Department for the Regulation and Control of __Magical Creatures (DRCMC). His superiors were unavailable for comment._

"Let me see that," said Ron. Harry handed him the paper. Ron winced at the cover. "Ministry's not going to like that. You're not supposed to be able to take pictures in the courtrooms."

"Wonder how they got a camera in," said Harry.

"Probably the same way they got a Death Eater in," said Ron absently as he flipped to the Quidditch scores. Harry smiled to himself. Trust Ron to take even the assassination of Dolores Umbridge in stride. War be damned, he was going to get his fill of Quidditch. "Bloody hell!" Ron exclaimed, getting a few looks from fellow Gryffindors. "Cannons went down to the Falcons three hundred and ninety to twenty."

Harry smirked despite the tension he was feeling. "That would make them last in the league for the...what was it Ron, one hundred and third time in as many years?"

Ron flipped him a rude gesture over the paper, and Harry laughed.

Hermione didn't even bother to reprove Ron; she was staring at the front of the paper, but Harry could tell that she wasn't focused on it. She looked very deep in thought, and he was just about to turn back to his breakfast when she suddenly said, "What if he wasn't a Death Eater?"

Ron lowered the paper and looked at Hermione incredulously. "He was wearing a black cloak," he said. "He killed her."

"Read more of the article," said Hermione impatiently. "The _Prophet _did a bit of investigative reporting and found that neither he, nor any of his family, had had anything to do with known Death Eaters in this war or the last one. He could have been under the Imperius Curse."

"Could be," said Ron, putting down the paper. "Dad always talks about how the Ministry had a lot of trouble with it the last time You-Know-Who was running around."

"It's a convenient excuse," said Hermione. "No one remembers what happened under the curse if the caster doesn't want them to, and there's no way for sure to tell that anyone's under it."

"But if Umbridge was under the curse, why kill her?" said Harry, something clicking in his mind.

Hermione immediately went silent, and Harry could practically hear the wheels turning in her head. "If she was under the Imperius Curse, she wouldn't have remembered who did it to her or what she did under the Curse if someone ordered her to forget it..." Her voice was getting quieter, and Harry realized that she was more thinking out loud than really talking to them. "But if they killed her, then they were trying to prevent her from talking, or she'd outlived her usefulness in some way. Maybe she was resisting? Maybe she somehow remembered what she was doing?"

"Maybe she was a Death Eater," said Ron thoughtfully. Harry braced himself for Hermione's irritation at having her thoughts interrupted, but to his surprise, she seemed to consider it.

"I wouldn't put it past her, honestly," she said after a moment. "But Harry did see her put under the Imperius Curse."

Ron shook his head. "That doesn't mean much, really. There were a few people who were first put under the Curse, and then did their work for You-Know-Who willingly afterwards. My dad told me about one bloke in the Department of Mysteries that was under the Curse, then fought it, and when he found out what had happened, he said he would have just joined up with You-Know-Who if he'd asked."

"Well, she certainly seems to hate half-breeds," Hermione said. "She wasted no time in trying to get Hagrid out of here."

Harry clenched his teeth. His memories of how Umbridge had systematically humiliated Hagrid still made his blood boil. "Wouldn't be surprised if she carries that over to half-blood wizards and Muggle-borns," he said bitterly.

It was the end of September before the press furor surrounding Umbridge's assassination died down. The _Daily Prophet _hadn't said anything particularly useful since the morning after the trial, but that didn't stop them from filling each subsequent issue with off-the-wall speculations and bizarre conspiracy theories that seemed more appropriate for the _Quibbler_. Harry found them amusing at first, but lost his sense of humor about it when one editorial suggested that he was the one who had placed Wallace under the Imperius Curse in order to get back at Umbridge for driving Dumbledore from Hogwarts.

After meeting once, Professor McGonagall announced that her Animagus group wouldn't meet again until October, when they started on human transfiguration. Harry was a bit relieved at this; between N.E.W.T. classes, Quidditch practice, his lessons with Dumbledore, and his dueling lessons with Professor Vance, he was quite swamped with work. He spent a great deal of his time poring over books with Ron and Hermione, and when he wasn't doing that, he was practicing dueling with them in the Room of Requirement, or flying his broom. His lessons with Professor Dumbledore had been following the same familiar form: Dumbledore gave him a general update on the war effort, and then practiced Occlumency, at which Harry was happy to note, he was actually beginning to show some improvement. His sensitivity to subtle probing had increased and his ability to block more overt casual probing had improved a fair margin.

The first Wednesday night in October, after inspecting Harry's Occlumency protections and pronouncing them sufficient for the moment, Dumbledore said, "Now that you have the basic idea of Occlumency down, I believe it is time that you started learning ritual magic."

"Ritual magic, sir?" asked Harry. He quickly searched his memory and didn't come up with anything.

"Yes, ritual magic," said Dumbledore. "It is the deeper, more complex side of magic. Up until now, you have learned magic as a spell channeled through your wand, with an incantation and wand motion to help you focus your magic. Spells as you know them tend to act instantaneously or over a short period of time. Ritual magic is more subtle. It can be used, for example, to place a curse on a family for decades. It is slow, it is deliberate, and it is very complicated, but it can have very powerful effects. The wards of Hogwarts, the Ministry, and many of the older Wizarding family homes are ritual spells. Removing wards and enchantments, such as Curse Breakers do, for example, also falls under the purview of ritual magic."

"Why don't they teach it at Hogwarts?" asked Harry. "I've never heard of it from anyone, even Hermione."

Dumbledore chuckled. "I do believe that Miss Granger will shortly be introduced to simple ritual magic in her Arithmancy and Ancient Runes classes. Ancient Runes are often necessary in ritual magic, and Arithmancy is useful for creating new ritual spells or modifying existing ones. Now, the first thing you need for ritual magic is a magic circle. There is a simple spell to do so. The incantation is '_circumscripti veneficum_', and the motion is a circle, like so." Dumbledore repeated the incantation as he moved his wand in a large circle. A glowing silver circle appeared on the floor of his office. He waved his wand again and it disappeared. "It can be dismissed with a simple _Finite Incantatem_.

"Now, I said it before, but I believe that it bears repeating. Ritual magic is very complex and very powerful. You need to know what effect you wish to create, where or whom the effect should target, and a focus for your magic. The circle serves a fourth purpose, similar to your wand: it channels the magic."

"I saw Professor Vance do something like this at the Ministry," said Harry, remembering. "He cast a circle around the phone booth entrance. Then he cast another spell. It looked like he was examining the booth, because he walked around it with his wand pointed at it."

"Ah, yes," said Dumbledore happily. "I should commend him for doing it, as that is the first spell I intend to teach you. It is one of the simplest of the ritual spells, called Wizard's Sight. To do it, one must cast a magic circle around the object in question, and then a second spell. It is a way to determine if an object has any magic enchantments on it. It can't tell you much more than that, though if you concentrate hard enough, you may be able to identify a few spells, or at least what sort of spells." He rubbed his hands together, reminding Harry oddly of a young boy in a candy shop. "Now, let's see, you need something to practice on...what about your father's Auror ring?"

"All right," said Harry, and he pulled off the ring. "This isn't going to do anything it, is it, Professor?"

"Not at all, Harry. It is a purely passive spell and will not affect the ring in any way. Now, place it on the floor and create a magic circle around it."

Obediently, Harry carefully placed the ring on the floor, and moved his wand in a circle. "_Circumscripti veneficum!_" he said, and to his satisfaction, a silvery glowing circle appeared around the ring.

"Now, the incantation for Wizard's Sight is '_Acriter conspexi_'," said Dumbledore. "Point your wand at the ring and try it now. You will almost certainly see that there is some magic on there, and if you concentrate hard enough, you may be able to identify individual spells or effects."

Harry pointed his wand at the ring, and muttered the incantation.

It was a very odd sensation. He couldn't describe it in words, but the ring felt..._alive _somehow. It seemed to be glowing brightly in his vision, and he could feel the magic in it. He used an Occlumency exercise to try to improve his concentration, and Harry found that he could feel some of the simpler spells on it. In a completely indescribable way, he recognized the _feel _of the modified _Lumos _charm on the ring, and in a way that made his stomach twitch as though he was being pulled by a hook behind his navel, he recognized the Portkey spell, though it felt weak. He moved his wand away from the ring, and immediately the feeling fell away from him. Dumbledore looked at him questioningly.

"It worked!" said Harry excitedly. "I could feel the magic and sort of see its aura. I could even feel the _Lumos _and Portkey spells!"

"Excellent, Harry!" said Dumbledore, beaming at him. "It is a very useful little spell, simple to do. You will find that, as you use ritual magic and become accustomed to it, that it changes you a little. Not your personality," he added as Harry started to look nervous, "but the way you see magic. It will help you focus your magic better, and you may find yourself picking things up a little faster than you used to, at least when it comes to learning to cast the spell properly. You will get a more intuitive feel for it.

"Now then," Dumbledore continued, "there are two other ritual spells I would like you to at least attempt: a basic ward and a dispellation charm, which properly applied, can be used to take down simple wards. These are more complicated rituals, but still far simpler than most ritual magic, and are fairly straightforward. I'm confident that you'll have little trouble with them." Dumbledore pulled a sheet of parchment out of his desk and handed it to Harry. He glanced over it, and saw a lot of small writing under the captions _Minor Arcane Lock_ and _Lesser Dispellation. _There were a few of what were obviously runes, he noted, before he carefully folded it and put it in his pocket.

"Can I ask Hermione for help with this?" he asked Dumbledore. He didn't have the slightest idea of how to read magical runes or what they would do, and her help would be invaluable. "Only I can't read runes, you see..."

"Of course, Harry," said Dumbledore. "And that, I believe, is all I have for you tonight, save for one final tidbit: I've asked Professor Vance to demonstrate to you some of the Dark Magic spells that Death Eaters use and how one can properly defend against them. You should be careful with them," he added, sounding more serious. "Several of these spells are illegal, though they don't carry the same penalty that the Unforgivable Curses do. So, good night, Harry, well done on your Occlumency, and do try to practice those rituals." Dumbledore smiled at him, eyes twinkling, and then sat back down at his desk.

"Good night, Professor," Harry said, and headed downstairs, his mind whirling with new information. Ritual magic? He'd never even heard of it before tonight. Curious, he pulled the parchment out of his pocket to study it more closely. It looked amazingly complicated, as Dumbledore had said. He hadn't glanced over it very closely in Dumbledore's office, but now, reading it closer, he realized what Dumbledore meant. The incantation alone for the security ward was a paragraph, and it required a circle cast around the object to be warded, inscribe a very specific set of runes on it with his wand (using another spell that he'd never heard of) and then say the incantation plus a password that would enable him (or anyone else he gave it to) access to the object. He would _definitely _need Hermione's help on this one.

Harry's thoughts were interrupted by a murmur of voices and the patter of approaching footsteps. Quickly, he pulled his Invisibility Cloak out of his pocket, stuffed the ritual magic parchment back into another pocket, and wrapped the cloak around himself, then pressed his back against the wall to remain out of the path of whoever was coming. The voices were getting closer and the footsteps were louder, and finally Harry was able to identify the voices, though not the words: it was Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle. Immediately, Harry's curiosity kicked into overdrive, and he strained his ears to catch what they were saying. It became easier when they came around a corner into full view, talking in low voices.

"...so don't ask stupid questions, Goyle," Malfoy was saying. "That's what Father told me to do."

"Shouldn't we tell Snape about it, though?" asked Goyle, his low grunt puzzled.

"Snape isn't as high up in the Dark Lord's favor as he used to be," Malfoy said, sounding slightly smug. "Father says that the Dark Lord is getting suspicious of him." Harry sucked in his stomach and made himself as flat against the wall as he could, as Crabbe's meaty right fist swung within an inch of his body. Then the tense moment passed as the three Slytherins continued onwards.

Harry quickly glanced around; he'd walked farther than he'd thought while reading the parchment; he was near the Room of Requirement. In a moment, he made up his mind to follow Malfoy and find out exactly what he was talking about, and set off after them, as quickly as he could.

It wasn't hard; Malfoy was a prefect and thus had every right to be out after hours. He obviously saw no need for stealth, so he was talking at a normal volume. Harry was easily able to follow after him, not even having to stay particularly quiet.

He followed Malfoy back past the gargoyle marking the entrance to Dumbledore's office and down a set of stairs to the sixth floor. Where were they going? The Slytherin common room was on the other side of the castle, in the dungeons. They obviously weren't heading back there; instead, Malfoy stopped at a door in the corridor which Harry knew was an unused classroom. The Slytherin looked around cautiously, then eased the door open. "Wait here," he ordered Crabbe and Goyle, and the two of them took up positions flanking the door, looking for all the world like a pair of bouncers at a pub. Malfoy walked into the room and shut the door before Harry could make a move to enter, and he heard a slight squelching sound as Malfoy magically sealed the door from the inside.

Harry paused to consider his options. He could attempt to take out Crabbe and Goyle and then listen at the door—assuming Malfoy hadn't placed a Silencing Charm on it—or he could go back to Gryffindor Tower. He quickly rummaged in his pockets, wondering if maybe he had an Extendable Ear in there somewhere, but to no avail. Maybe if he was very quiet, he could sneak between Crabbe and Goyle and listen at the door anyway. The door seemed to be just wide enough that he could crawl between them and press his head against it. If Malfoy had put a Silencing Charm on the door, he could only wait until the other came out of the classroom and hope he spilled something to Crabbe and Goyle, and then search the room after the Slytherins left.

He decided to try to slip between Crabbe and Goyle, and got down on his belly, taking a moment to make sure that he was still properly concealed by the cloak. He shimmied forward as silently as he could. Fortunately, the stone floor was smooth here, and Crabbe and Goyle didn't seem to notice anything out of the ordinary. Harry took a deep breath, and then pulled in his shoulders as much as he could. He pushed himself forward as best he could, taking a great deal of care not to let his shoulders or arms brush their legs.

To his relief, he managed to get between them and rest his head against the door. Harry pressed his ear against it and closed his eyes, straining to hear voices within. He was quite unable to hear anything, and cursed silently to himself, then realized he'd better at least get himself out of the doorway lest Malfoy come out and discover Harry by the simple expedient of stepping on his head.

Just as he'd managed to shimmy himself back out of the way and stand up, the door opened. Malfoy had a neutral expression on his face, and didn't say anything, but beckoned to Crabbe and Goyle, and they followed him down the corridor, Harry following invisibly behind them. Malfoy didn't speak the whole way back to the Slytherin common room, and Harry was tempted to follow them inside, but decided that the chance of discovery was too great in the belly of the beast.

After he saw Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle enter their common room, he went back up to the sixth floor classroom and went inside. It was completely unremarkable; there were a few old Charms textbooks on some rickety-looking bookshelves, and the desks and chairs were looking rather dusty. Harry quickly glanced at the books, but they were obviously undisturbed; a couple had cobwebs on them. He was about to give it up as a bad job when he caught a glimmer of light out of the corner of his eye. Over in the fireplace, there were a few glowing embers. Harry went over and knelt down, carefully examining them. There were still a few hot spots in addition to the embers, and the rest of the ash was still warm.

The evidence was clear: Malfoy had lit a fire in this fireplace, but why? Then the obvious answer hit Harry. He started searching the room more carefully, looking for the bag of Floo powder Malfoy had almost certainly used. Who was Malfoy talking to? What were they talking about? He had a feeling that he now knew who had let in the Imperiused stalker.

After about ten minutes of searching, Harry gave it up as a bad job. Malfoy must have taken the powder with him. It was a good idea, Harry admitted to himself. Leaving around an unauthorized bag of Floo powder was a fantastic way to let Dumbledore know that something was up if anyone found it and turned it in. _Dumbledore_. He had to let the Headmaster know as soon as he could that the wards were being breached without his knowledge.

Leaving the room, Harry quickly scanned the corridor to make sure that it was clear, then threw his cloak over himself and went back up to Dumbledore's office. "Toothflossing stringmints," he said to the gargoyle. To his great surprise, the gargoyle didn't jump out of the way. Then, to his even greater surprise, it spoke to him.

"S'no good," it said in a voice like crunching gravel. "The Headmaster's not takin' any visitors now."

"But I was here barely half an hour ago!" Harry protested. Dumbledore wasn't taking any visitors? Was the Headmaster asleep or something? He'd never known Dumbledore not to be awake, no matter how late the hour. Taking a guess, he said, "Can't you wake him?"

"He's not sleepin', you git," said the gargoyle testily, emphasizing the insult. "He's left the castle. I was tryin' to be subtle, but you had to keep on pushin'... Most blokes would take the hint..."

"He's not here?" said Harry, interrupting the gargoyle.

"What did I just say?" it snapped. "And no, I don't know where he's gone. Why don't you just sod off now?"

Not entirely sure what to say, but feeling rather irritated, Harry turned his back on the now-motionless gargoyle. If Dumbledore was out of the castle, then he'd just have to tell him about what he'd found tomorrow. But why was Dumbledore out of the castle in the first place? He'd shown no signs of leaving when Harry had left his office, no more than an hour ago. He headed back to Gryffindor tower, reminding himself to tell Dumbledore about Malfoy's nocturnal activities.

There was no sign of Dumbledore at breakfast the next day, though, nor on Friday. Harry was so preoccupied with Dumbledore's absence, the furor surrounding Umbridge's assassination (which was thankfully dying down), and Malfoy's mysterious Floo activities that he received quite an unpleasant jolt when he and Hermione walked into Potions to see their finished Veritaserum sitting on their desks. "Oh, _bollocks_," said Harry. "Not today...not when Dumbledore's gone." Hermione didn't look any happier at the prospect of testing their Veritaserum, but reassured Harry slightly by telling him that his potion looked exactly like it was supposed to look.

"This is the day that we will be testing your Veritaserum," Snape said as he closed the classroom door. "Professor McGonagall will be arriving momentarily to supervise the administration of the potion," he added, sounding more sour than usual. Harry heard Hermione sigh in relief that he wholeheartedly shared.

There was a crisp knock at the door, and Snape opened it with his wand to let in Professor McGonagall. "Good afternoon, Severus," she said. "Shall we get on with it?"

Snape merely nodded, then started down the rows, placing goblets of water and eyedroppers on the tables in front of the students. "Place three drops, no more, in the goblets, and then drink the contents," he said. Harry, feeling like this was a monumentally bad idea, filled his eyedropper with his potion and added the drops to his goblet, then downed it. Next to him, Hermione did the same.

As soon as the water hit his stomach, Harry felt a wonderful calm come over him, and wondered what he had been worrying about. This would easy...all he had to do was to tell the truth and fantastic things would happen...nothing like the truth to clear up misunderstandings...

He glanced at Hermione, who was propping her chin up with her hand, a dreamy smile on her face. Across the dungeon, Snape was quietly asking Malfoy a couple questions while Professor McGonagall looked on. The Slytherin looked more relaxed than Harry had ever seen him; he was smiling serenely as he answered Snape's questions. Despite his current euphoria, Harry couldn't help but wonder exactly what Snape was asking and what Malfoy was saying.

Shortly afterward, Snape and McGonagall made their way to Harry and Hermione's table. Was it just Harry's imagination, or did McGonagall shoot a sharp glance at Snape before he started to talk to them? It was the strangest thing, he noted. Normally Snape's voice had the approximate effect of nails on a chalkboard to him, but it wasn't so bad now...almost soothing, it was...

"What is your Patronus, Potter?" Snape asked.

A perfectly reasonable question, Harry thought, and was more than happy to say, "A stag."

"And yours, Granger?"

"An otter," said Hermione.

"Have you ever made unauthorized Polyjuice Potion, Potter?" Snape asked.

Harry dimly noticed that Professor McGonagall seemed to look very annoyed all of a sudden and opened her mouth, but before she said anything, he said "No." Snape frowned, but Harry wasn't sure why. He'd told the truth, hadn't he?

Now a separate part of Harry's brain was starting to poke at him. _Why was it so important to tell Snape the truth?_

"Have you ever stolen anything from my office?" The prodding in Harry's brain became stronger. _He's asking dangerous questions_, said the little voice. _Wouldn't it be better to lie to him?_

"No," said Harry, though he was beginning to feel a little disconcerted. Since when had he ever felt obliged to tell Snape the truth? _That's right_.

"That's quite enough, Severus!" came Professor McGonagall's voice, and it was like a cold jet of water hitting Harry in the face. Reality came rushing back to him, and at the same time, a sudden flood of relief that Professor McGonagall had stopped Snape from asking any more questions. Snape snarled, but turned to Hermione.

"What do your parents do for a living, Granger?"

"They're dentists," said Hermione, still in a dreamy tone quite unlike her normal voice.

"I suggest that you move on to other students now, Severus," said Professor McGonagall quite loudly. "Surely they have demonstrated the effectiveness of their Veritaserum?"

Snape grudgingly agreed and moved along to Ernie Macmillan.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. Clearly, Snape had been unwilling to press the issue in front of Professor McGonagall. Not for the first time, Harry wondered why Dumbledore even trusted the man. He felt certain that if Snape had been unsupervised, he would have asked Harry far more questions, and they would have been far more dangerous than the three he managed to get out before being stopped. Up ahead, Terry Boot's face suddenly burst out into giant nasty-looking boils before answering Snape's questions. Snape sneered, then pulled a small vial out of his robes and gave it to Terry Boot, whose boils subsided immediately upon drinking it.

"It seems that you forgot to add the murtlap essence, Boot," said Snape. "A common mistake, and although the truth effect will still work," he added, pitching his voice louder so the rest of the class could hear, "it will be much weaker and if the boils aren't treated quickly, they will become permanent. Bring a sample of your potion forward for marking."

Hermione was still looking a little out of it when they packed up their bags and left Potions, and Harry had a feeling that resistance to Veritaserum was related to being able to resist the Imperius Curse. "So, did Ron make the Veritaserum as well?" he asked her.

"Yes," said Hermione. "It's curing in the Room of Requirement. So far, Ron seems to have gotten it right, but it will be another week before it's ready."

"You're having an effect on him," said Harry. "He's doing a lot more reading now." He smiled slightly. "Never voluntarily picked up a book before unless it had to do with Quidditch."

Hermione looked a little pink, but smiled.

That night, Harry walked into the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom for his lesson with Professor Vance, to find that the room had been cleared of all desks and a strange, disturbingly realistic mannequin was standing in the middle of the floor. "Ah, Potter. Excellent," said Professor Vance, looking up from more paperwork. He set down his quill and stood up, pulling his wand out of his pocket as he walked towards Harry and the mannequin. "Different sort of lesson tonight. The Headmaster wants me to show you some of what the more senior Death Eaters might use in combat and how to protect yourself. We'll be using him"—Professor Vance slapped the mannequin on the shoulder—"and his brothers as our guinea pigs. So, first things first. Have you ever heard of the Lesser Unforgivables?"

Harry racked his memory for a minute. He'd come across one or two references in the set of books that Lupin and Sirius had given him for Christmas last year, but nothing he could specifically remember. "Once or twice," he said. "Don't remember the names, though, or what they do."

"Well, they're very Dark spells, less well known than the Unforgivables, and somewhat less dangerous, but they'll still net you a decade or so in Azkaban if you use them on a human. They're very nasty spells, but they, unlike the Unforgivable Curses, can be blocked and defended against. There's three of them as well. These are tough spells to work, and you'll probably only see Voldemort's inner circle use them—the rest don't have the talent. So, the first and probably worst of the three is the Immolation Curse." Professor Vance raised his wand, turned to the mannequin, and shouted, "_Ardeocardia_!"

A familiar wave of purple flames came out of his wand and washed over the mannequin, but didn't appear to do anything. Harry felt a chill run down his spine. "I've seen that spell before, sir," he said, and Professor Vance looked at him, surprised. "Antonin Dolohov used it on Hermione at the Ministry last June."

Professor Vance raised his eyebrows, obviously taken slightly aback. "Granger took one of Dolohov's Immolation Curses and lived?" He sounded very surprised, and gave a low whistle. "That's Dolohov's favorite spell, and he's damn good with it."

"Well, he had a Silencing Charm on him," said Harry. "He tried to curse me too, but I blocked most of it."

"Well done, Potter, It's a tricky curse to work properly, and it seems that he can't do it properly if he's Silenced. I didn't know it could be blocked with just a Shield Charm, though. You must have a good one. Usually it takes a better defensive spell than that."

"But what does it do?" asked Harry, glancing back at the mannequin. Nothing appeared to have happened to it. "Hermione just passed out."

"She's damned lucky to have survived it," said Professor Vance quietly, and the grim tone of his voice sent another shiver through Harry. He gestured to the mannequin. "Watch the dummy, Potter."

Harry turned back just in time to see black blotches erupt on the "skin" of the mannequin, starting small, but growing quickly. A moment later, the blotches burst into flames the same color as the original spell, burning the dummy to ashes in a matter of seconds. His stomach churned, and Harry felt sick at the thought of what could have happened to Hermione if Dolohov hadn't been Silenced.

"It burns the victim from the inside out," said Professor Vance solemnly. "Starts at the heart and goes through the vital organs before bursting out of the skin. The only reason it isn't Unforgivable is because it can be blocked magically, unlike the Killing Curse, and a countercurse exists, though if, God forbid, you ever need to use it, you have to use it _immediately_. Within a minute of the victim being hit. The countercurse is "_Restinctum viscera_." You also need to get them to a Healer as soon as possible, because there will be massive internal damage." He glanced over at Harry, who was feeling faint and slightly ill from the memory of the Ministry battle. "All right, Potter?" he asked, sounding concerned.

"Yeah," said Harry, and winced internally as it came out rather hoarse. "Yeah," he said again in a stronger voice.

"Right," said Professor Vance, obviously deciding not to comment, for which Harry was grateful. He gave his wand a complicated-looking twirl. Another mannequin, identical to the first, appeared standing in the pile of ashes that was the first mannequin. "This next one, the Avasculation Curse, is almost as nasty as the Immolation Curse. It won't kill, but it will cause a lot of pain and injury. Watch the dummy closely." He pointed his wand at the mannequin, and then twisted it in a jerky sort of way, like he was turning a sticky doorknob. "_Viscerabscissum!_"

Again, nothing happened at first, but sooner than the black splotches had appeared on the mannequin, dark red patches appeared on its surface, growing larger. Instead of bursting into flames, however, the "skin" of the mannequin tore open and started oozing a liquid that looked disturbingly like blood. The mannequin's facial features, like the rest of it, were very realistic, and Harry winced as the fluid started dripping out of the mannequin's nose, and running out of the corners of its eyes and mouth.

Professor Vance raised his wand, presumably lifting the curse, but the "blood" continued to ooze out of the mannequin. "I think you get the idea, Potter. It's not real blood, obviously, but if this was a person, it would be, and they'd be screaming in pain. The spell rips open your skin and blood vessels. It's very painful, but not lethal, and it won't destroy your mind like the Cruciatus Curse will if it's kept on you too long, though you'll start to bleed internally after awhile." He glanced at Harry again. "Sure you're all right, Potter?"

"Yeah," said Harry, keeping his face impassive, though he hadn't been able to suppress a feeling of nausea and horror at the two Dark spells he'd seen so far. "It's just...I didn't realize..." he trailed off.

"Exactly what Dark wizards are capable of doing to human beings?" said Professor Vance, a twisted, bitter smile on his lips. "Well, these two are the most lethal and painful of the lot of the ones I'll be showing you tonight, but there's lots of nasty ones that aren't well known. The Ministry likes to keep information on these spells restricted, and I can't say that I blame them." He closed his eyes for a moment. "I remember at Auror training when we were shown these spells for the first time, I was horrified. I still can see Dolohov burning one of my classmates to ashes with the Immolation Curse." A flash of pain went over Professor Vance's face, then faded as he opened his eyes. "They're vicious, brutal, evil spells that decent wizards have no business knowing, let alone casting, but you've got to know exactly what you're up against and how to protect yourself. As my mentor used to say..."

"Constant vigilance?" offered Harry, and Professor Vance gave him a slight smile.

"Exactly. Now, the last of the Lesser Unforgivables is called the Marionette Curse. Don't look at me," he added, as Harry looked at him incredulously. "I didn't name it. But it's a pretty succinct description of what it does. It's painless and won't harm you, and with your permission, I will briefly place it on you to demonstrate its effects."

Harry hesitated for a moment, then nodded. If Professor Vance had wanted to harm him, he had certainly had plenty of opportunities to do so. He felt himself tense as Professor Vance pointed his wand at him, and said, "_Corpus inservio!_"

Nothing seemed to happen, and Harry opened his mouth to say so, but then realized that his jaws were glued shut as though he'd eaten an entire tin of Hagrid's treacle fudge. "Go stand by the door and then hop on one leg," said Professor Vance. Against his will, his body started walking, though it wasn't a smooth motion; instead, his legs jerked unnaturally, as though he was being controlled by a puppeteer. Harry gritted his teeth and tried to force his legs to stop moving; after a brief force of will, they did, and he felt his jaws loosen as well.

"Well done," said Professor Vance approvingly. "I figured you'd be able to throw it off quickly. What did the spell do?"

"It controls your body," said Harry. "Sort of like the Imperius Curse, but you know what's going on. Oh, and I couldn't talk."

"Exactly," said Professor Vance. "You noticed that you maintain full lucidity at all times. It simply seizes your body and prevents you from speaking to alert others to what's happening. Unlike the Imperius Curse, it isn't a long term domination; it's just a short-term spell to confuse your enemy by seizing control of your body. It's also easier to resist than the Imperius Curse.

"Like I said," he continued, "they're less dangerous and less serious than the true Unforgivables, but still very Dark magic."

By the time Harry said good night to Professor Vance, he'd learned more than he ever wanted to know about Dark curses, though he was at least grateful that he could identify them and counter them. Professor Vance had not only shown him the three Lesser Unforgivables, but a host of other Dark spells. He'd learned about the Bone-Shattering Hex (like the Bone-Breaking Hex, but it shattered the bone into razor sharp slivers instead of cracking it cleanly), the Constricting Curse, which closed the victim's airway and suffocated them, the similar but nastier Drowning Curse which filled their lungs with water, and last of all, the Entrail-Expelling Curse, which if not as immediately lethal as the Immolation Curse, was certainly the most disgusting. Every one of these curses were illegal and would result in some kind of jail term in Azkaban.

Head still spinning with Dark magic (which was a rather unpleasant feeling), Harry muttered the password to the Fat Lady ("Frivolousness!") and stepped into the common room, greeted immediately by the familiar sights and sounds of Gryffindor students lounging around on a Friday evening, excited for the weekend. He felt a little better as he entered the warm room and spotted Ron and Hermione sitting over at their usual table. Hermione, to Harry's complete lack of surprise, had her nose stuck in an immense tome that looked like it weighed about as much as Hagrid, while Ron was paging through what Harry recognized as Hermione's Potions book. Ron looked up, saw Harry, grinned, and waved him over.

Harry grinned back, then made his way through the various Gryffindor students, smiling at Ginny as he passed her, reclining on the couch, reading her Transfiguration book. She looked up and smiled back, and his stomach did a backflip, though he felt even better. Harry wasn't one to lie to himself; he knew he was nursing a pretty hefty crush on her, but he remembered Hermione saying that she'd gotten over him.

With that cheerful thought, he sat down on the other side of Ron. Hermione put down her book, causing the table to tremble slightly, and Ron looked very cheerful as he closed the Potions book.

"How was your lesson, Harry?" asked Hermione.

Harry glanced around to make sure that no one was in earshot of them, then said lowly, "Professor Vance showed me some Dark curses that Death Eaters use."

"Vance taught you _Dark magic?_" Ron hissed, sounding shocked.

"Not quite," said Harry. "He showed me the curses and everything, but also showed me how to counter them. Besides, I didn't try any of them." He shuddered slightly. "Some of them were pretty bad."

"Like what?" asked Hermione, clearly interested despite the subject matter.

"Well, there's these three called the Lesser Unforgivables—they were the worst of the lot, but the others were pretty nasty, too."

"Oh, I've heard of those somewhere," said Ron. "Supposed to be really bad, but they don't chuck you in Azkaban for the rest of your life, right?"

"Yeah," said Harry. "Just a decade or two."

"I remember reading about them in one of the books in the Room of Requirement last year," said Hermione. "But I've never seen one."

"Yes, you have," said Harry grimly. Hermione paled.

"When?"

"In the Department of Mysteries. Remember Dolohov's spell?" She nodded. "That was the Immolation Curse."

Hermione took a deep breath, and slumped a little in her chair. Ron put his arm around her, his face confused. "What's this Immolation Curse and when did Hermione get hit with it?"

"It was back at the Ministry," said Harry. "After we got separated. Dolohov was shouting that he'd found us in the Time Room, and Hermione Silenced him before he could finish yelling. Then he cast it on her. Looked like purple fire."

"I don't remember much about it," said Hermione softly. "I just remember that it felt like a burning brand across my chest and then I passed out."

"What does the Immolation Curse do, anyway?" asked Ron.

Harry sighed. "It burns someone to ashes from the inside out."

Ron didn't say anything, but his face went ghostly white and he pulled Hermione even closer against him.

At length, Harry said, "There's two other ones, too—the Avasculation Curse and the Marionette Curse. The Avasculation Curse rips open your skin and blood vessels, and the Marionette Curse controls your body. Kind of like the Imperius Curse, but without the mind control."

"Bloody hell," said Ron faintly. "And you _learned _these?"

"I learned how to defend against them," said Harry. "I'm not going to use them on anyone."

But even as he said it, he wasn't so sure. He could think of one Death Eater in particular that he hated enough.


End file.
